


In Sickness And In Health

by eating_custardinbed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eating_custardinbed/pseuds/eating_custardinbed
Summary: Thomas Jefferson. Crazy. Obsessed with purple. Envious hair.James Madison. Thoughtful. Always sick. Short.They can't be together. Can they?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Wattpad, and now on here! Enjoy!

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Imagine a paper cut. Not one of those namby-pamby ones just on the back of your hand, but one of the bitchy ones in that space between two fingers. You're squirming just thinking about it, aren't you? Yeah, well, multiply that by about 10 billion and you've got how my leg felt that night. This is exactly why you don't rush out of the house and forget your flashy cane and your phone, people!

The wall was my new crutch, and I was flattened against it, dragging my tired body along with its help. My leg was a few inches behind me, angrily informing me that it did not appreciate all the unaided movement. Looking up in desperation, I felt tears trickle down my cheeks from the pain. I had to get somewhere, I frankly didn't care as long as it was relatively warm and the people who lived there could get Mads for me.

Looking to the right, I realised that I was on Hamilton's street, and I could see his house by the dim light of the streetlamp. Limping forward with a groan, I lurched dangerously to the door, knocking frantically as my face flattened against it.

Eliza answered the door in her nightgown, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. I felt guilty for a moment, but a particularly vicious bout of pain struck my leg and I cried out before I could stop myself.

"Mr Jefferson?" she said, shocked. "Why are you here?"

"Phone," I gasped as I slowly slid down the doorframe. "Please."

"You better come inside," she replied, slipping my arm over her shoulder and helping me to the plush couch. "I'm going to get Alexander."

I lay there, breathing in little gasps as pure agony radiated from my ankle all the way up to my hip, I heard Eliza arguing with Hamilton upstairs.

" _But he's hurt, Alexander!"_

_"I don't care! It's Jefferson, for fuck's sake!"_

_"Language."_

_"Sorry."_

_"Just go and take one look at him and get back to me,"_ she finished angrily, and I felt a wave of affection for her. Footsteps made their way down the stairs, and Alexander's head poked round the doorway, his face irritated. As soon as he clapped eyes on me in my sorry state, face stained with tears and my hand clamped on my jean-clad leg, he didn't look so annoyed.

"Jefferson? What happened?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. I heard no malice in his tone.

"You need to go and get Madison," I breathed as loud as I could, my voice hoarse with pain.

"Give me his number, I'll call him."

"No," I replied harshly, breathing ragged. "Doesn't have a car. You'll have to pick him up or phone a cab or something."

"Where does he live?"

"31 Mercer..." I managed to tell him before I was cut off by my own howl of pain. Alexander looked spooked and scuttled out of the front door; soon, I heard the car start up and shoot off.

Unable to contain the pained groans, I gave Eliza a begging look, but all she could do was sadly shake her head at me. I understood what she meant: no pain meds in the house.

"Mummy?" came a sleepy and undeniably cute voice from the doorway. Snapping my head to the side, I was slightly surprised to see a mini version of Alexander standing there, no older than 7 or 8. He clutched a blanket, and his eyes were wide as he regarded me with keen interest. "Who's that man on the couch?"

"That's Mr Jefferson, Phillip," she said, her tone resigned as she ushered the child into the room. "He works with Daddy."

"Daddy says you're a rich, pompous prick and he's surprised that you ever got into the government," Phillip said loudly, making Eliza blush and mouth _sorry_ to me.

"We don't use language like that in this house, Phillip," she reprimanded the boy, who looked ashamedly at the floor. Out of the blue, a white-hot dagger mad its way into my flesh, and I bit down hard on the side of my cheek, tasting blood as so not to scare the child by screaming. This didn't go unnoticed by Eliza, who glanced towards the door impatiently.

Chancing a look at my maroon jeans, I almost yelped as I saw the small dark patch on the thigh. Blood. The old wound only bled when it got really bad: the last time it had bled was over 10 years ago. My breathing picked up, and before long, I was virtually hyperventilating.

"Where on God's good earth is that man?" Eliza said, eyeing me with concern. As if on cue, the front door slammed and Madison rushed in, my medication and cane in his hand. I could've have cheered with relief.

"Thomas!?" he whispered, shocked as he swept my sweaty hair off of my forehead. "What happened?"

"F-felt f-f-fi-fine this morning..." I stammered, and before I could stop it, a blood-curdling scream made its way out of my mouth. Phillip, the poor soul, jumped and immediately ran over his father, who picked him up and allowed the child to nuzzle into his neck. "Please, Jemmy, please!"

"Shh," he soothed, fumbling with the cap. "Damn child locks..."

Reaching up with shaking hands, I grasped at the front of his hoodie, sobbing into his chest. I heard him gasp in triumph, and soon the small white pills were held to my lips. I swallowed them greedily, savouring the bitter taste.

"Thomas..." he chanced, his tone uncertain. "It's bleeding."

_Madison's p.o.v_

As soon as I said that, Thomas' face flushed and he looked down, embarrassed. Eliza looked even more frightened than before, and Hamilton stole a quick look at the slowly growing patch of indistinguishable crimson before I glared at him, silently warning to stop being a nosy bastard.

"I know," he replied quietly, and I noticed that his voice was drowsy, his eyelids drooping. The medication was strong, and often knocked him out for about 3 or 4 hours.

"Hamilton," I said, clearing my throat. "I hope you don't mind, but we may have to intrude upon your privacy for a few more hours. I don't quite think I'll be able to get him home on my own, and I'm sure you don't want to be going out again at this time at night."

Hamilton opened his mouth to say something, but his wife (God bless her, she seemed like a lovely woman) cut him off.

"Of course you can both stay the night," she beamed. "We have a spare room towards the back; don't worry, no stairs."

I breathed a sigh of relief- trying to get Thomas up the stairs when he was in this state was a nightmare in itself- and flashed her a tired smile.

"Thank you," I said, truly grateful.

Turning back to Thomas, I tapped him gently on the shoulder, his confused eyes looking at me. I felt a twang of pity in my chest. I hated it when Thomas was like this, so vulnerable, so helpless... that was my job, not his. He was the strong one, the cocky one, the one everyone noticed...

The one I loved with all my heart. But I could never tell him, for fear of rejection and humiliation. He's straight, I told myself as I fought the urge to kiss him right here, right now.

"We've gotta move," I told him, and he groaned. _Why_ , he mouthed, too tired to speak. "Because I can't lift you without dropping you, that's why."

He chuckled, eyes sliding closed again.

" _Mon petit ami,"_ he murmured almost inaudibly before suddenly... well, appearing is the best word for it, in an upright position, all of his weight on his right leg. "Oi, Mads, wanna be my third leg?"

Chuckling a little myself, I slipped my arm under his armpit, and he leant so heavily on me I thought I was going to snap in two.

"I am not small," I defended as we slowly made our way.

"Are too."

Rolling my eyes, I set him down on the double bed, turning around for decency as he slowly undressed down to his underwear and crawled under the covers.

"How badly is it bleeding?" I asked softly.

"It's stopped now," he said, but his voice was faint and when I turned around, he was already fast asleep. Giving a small smile, I checked that no-one was there, and planted a kiss on his forehead.

Nobody needs to know...

As soon as I got out of the bedroom door, I was assaulted by hissed questions from both Eliza and Alexander.

"Let me sit down and I'll tell you!" I announced, and they waited patiently for me to sit and warn them never to speak of it again before starting the tale.

"When me and Thomas were children in Virginia, we lived next door to each other. In the park across the road, there was a huge oak tree, easy enough to climb. I was a weak child, always ill, but on the rare occasion I would be allowed out, we would both climb this tree. I stayed towards the bottom whilst he scampered up towards the very top with the agility of an Olympic athlete."

I smiled as I remembered the warm Virginian summers, sitting on the bottom branch of the tree with Thomas seemingly miles above me. "When we were about 9, we were climbing the tree. Like normal, I was at the bottom, and he had climbed about halfway. I don't know what happened, but he just lost his footing and fell, all the way to the bottom."

I shuddered as I remembered watching with horror as Thomas fell, screaming. Scrambling to catch him, being too far away. His parents rushing out. Me holding him as he cried whilst his mother called 911. "He broke his leg, badly. 3 reconstructive surgeries later, he regained most of the movement, but it still bothers him sometimes."

"And all those times I thought that damn cane was a fashion accessory," Hamilton said under his breath, shaking his head.

"One heck of a fashion accessory," I agreed. "Neither of us were allowed out until we were 15, and we had to be with each other at all times."

We still stuck together. After all these years, we still stuck together.


	2. Chapter 2

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

When I woke up, I was confused, disoriented, in an unfamiliar room and completely alone. Biting my lip, I looked around nervously. The alarm clock on the side told me that it was 11:47 in the morning in retina-melting red.

"Mads?" I called, trying (but not succeeding very well in) not to shriek.

Outside, there was a few bangs and crashes, and Madison arrived, out of breath, at the door. God, he looked so cute when... wait, what was I thinking?

"You're finally awake," he said, relieved. "I was starting to worry that you'd never wake up!"

"Where am I?" I cut him off as I sat up, surveying the room. The walls were painted in a dirty cream: neither mine nor Madison's, then (mine, of course, was magenta, and Mads' was bright red).

"You don't remember?" he replied, crestfallen.

"I remember leaving work at about 11..."

"Well, that morning, you'd forgotten your cane and your phone."

I fought the urge to slap myself. My cane. How could I forget my cane?

"So you must've left work, sort of staggered along for a bit before arriving at Hamilton's place around midnight. You made him get me. And that's the tale of how I woke up at half past 12 at night to Alexander Hamilton at my doorstep telling me that my best friend was on his couch sobbing in pain."

"We're at _HAMILTON'S_!?" I yelped, just as Hamilton's head poked around the door.

"Put some clothes on, Jefferson," he told me, and I looked down in mild amusement at my bare chest before looking back to the blushing Madison.

"Never!" I yelled back, and I heard a giggle before Phillip and a small girl's head appeared.

"Hello, Mr Jefferson," Phillip said cheerfully, and the girl repeated this, but with a cute little lisp.

"Phillip, Angelica, go see if your mother has finished breakfast yet: first one there gets a special prize!" Hamilton said, causing the children to squeal and scamper off. "Now get dressed before my daughter sees you again."

"Ooh, touchy," I shot back, careful to keep my tone jovial to not piss off my 'kindly' host, starting to haul myself up. Hamilton screwed his eyes shut, and disappeared with a bang of the door, leaving me with the now furiously red James Madison.

"I'll-" he began to say, but I cut him off by holding my hand out and looking up at him uselessly. Understanding the unspoken shame, he helped me up, gently easing the useless thing elusively named 'leg' into an upright position. The mangled muscles seemed to grate against the bone, and I was sobbing in earnest by the time I was standing.

"No more!" I commanded hoarsely, furiously wiping away the tears. "No more!"

On these sort of days, I would usually just lounge around and simply not move all day, but lounging was not an option at this point, because I still had to somehow get dressed, get out and get home.

"Okay, it's okay," Mads tried to sooth me, but I was having none of it.

"It's not okay, though, is it?" I yelled, wrenching his arm off of me. "I can't bloody WALK properly, I'm in pain all the time and now my worst enemy, my _worst enemy,_ no less, knows about it! You didn't tell him how it happened, did you?"

He squirmed in front of me, and that's when I blew up.

"YOU TOLD HIM!?" I screamed, throwing my arms into the air. "YOU TOLD MY WORST ENEMY ABOUT THE MOST HORRIFIC MOMENT IN MY LIFE WITHOUT EVEN SO MUCH AS _ASKING_ MY CONSENT!?"

"I-I-I was... just..." he stammered, on the verge of tears. As I look back on it, the memory of his shining eyes and slapped-with-a-wet-fish expression, it breaks my heart, but at the time I was too blinded by rage.

"Just what?" I snapped. "Ruining my life? Well good job, it worked!"

In anger, I tried to take a step forward, but my leg buckled beneath me and I was sent tumbling to the floor. Madison, of course, came rushing forward, trying to help me up, but I swatted him away.

"Get your hands off me, Madison," I snarled. He stumbled backwards, a sob making its way up his throat as he ran out as fast as he could, tripping over his own feet.

So that's how I ended up in Alexander Hamilton's house, sprawled on the floor and trying to slow my racing mind to catch just one way in which I was going to get out to find Mads.

Labouriously, I gripped the edge of the bed, hauling the top half of my body onto it, lying there and panting like a sad whale for a few minutes before proceeding to transfer myself into a sitting position. Out of breath, I reached down and grabbed my grubby purple hoodie and bloodstained maroon jeans, but before I could start getting changed, there was a light knock on the door.

"Mr Jefferson?" Eliza's sweet voice came softly. "Can I come in?"

"S-sure," I stuttered, pulling the duvet around my bare chest, hiding the ugly scar on my leg. Eliza slipped in, sitting gently next to me.

"Mr Jefferson-"

"Thomas. Just call me Thomas."

"Thomas, what happened?" she asked as I took a sudden interest in the carpet. What an exquisite dull, depressing grey... "Madison came out crying, wouldn't say anything other than thank you and rushed out the front door! We heard you yelling, what's going on?"

"It's nothing," I murmured. "I was just being stupid."

No, _now_ I was being stupid. I had every right to be mad and I knew it, but for some strange reason best known to the gods themselves, I felt incredibly guilty.

"Is it because he told us about your leg?"

Jesus, this woman is good. Before I knew it, I was sobbing into her shoulder, rambling on about how much I regretted yelling at him, how I desperately wanted him to forgive me but I just didn't think he would at all, and she was patting me on the back, whispering soothing words in my ears.

"I think you should just talk to him," she told me as I sat back up, drying my eyes. I'd shown more emotion in the last 12 hours than I had in the last 12 years, for Christ's sake! Nodding and smiling, I thanked her and ushered her out so I could attempt to get dressed within the hour. Without Madison's help. Then, I would go and find him, and I knew just where to look.

_Madison's p.o.v_

After I'd left Hamilton's, I stumbled down the street, tears blinding my vision as I headed towards Abingdon Square. The small space, only 1000 metres squared and one of the oldest parks in New York City, provided some comfort to me when I had fought with Thomas or had been having a particularly hard day. Pushing past bewildered citizens and concerned tourists, I managed to make my way to one of the benches, collapsing into it and burying my face in my hands. Now I'd done it! I'd ruined the best friendship I'd ever had ever because I couldn't keep my big-ass mouth shut! Crying in frustration, I slammed my fist into the side of the bench, and I heard the wood splinter with the force. A few people looked at me weirdly, but I ignored them, gazing up at the well-weathered war memorial.

"Please don't let him hate me," I whispered to the air.

He couldn't hate me.

He just couldn't.


	3. Chapter 3

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Okay, note to self: never try to get dressed with a useless leg and no support.

The top half wasn't really a problem, just slip the t-shirt and hoodie on, but the jeans were another story. After unsuccessfully being able to put them on sitting down and with much swearing, I tried to put them on standing up, hopping around on one leg like some demented purple rabbit.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHY DO I WEAR SUCH TIGHT JEANS!?" I screamed loudly, fighting the urge to tear my own hair out. I heard stifled giggles outside the door, and yelled, "AND STOP BEING A NOSY PRICK, HAMILTON!"

After rather a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, cursing and shrieks of frustration, I was finally fully dressed, and lacing up my clumpy black military-grade boots. Grabbing my cane and my phone this time, I made my way out, being thankful of the lack of stairs.

"Thanks for the room," I said gratefully as I hung around at the front door, Eliza fretting that I had to have something to eat. "I'll find Mads and sort this whole mess out."

Eliza gave me a kind smile, waving me off before closing the front door. As I headed down the street, I brought my phone out of my pocket and tried phoning Mads.

_Madison's p.o.v_

Inside my pocket, my phone buzzed angrily, informing me that someone wanted to get in touch with me. With fumbling, frozen fingers, I managed to get it out, only to find that it was Thomas. Of course. Tears once again stinging at the corners of my eyes, I shoved it back in my pocket, rubbing my fingers together in an attempt to restore circulation to them. Damn him if he thought he could guilt-trip me over the phone. Damn him.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

" _You've reached James Madison. If you're from work, call 08917 345826. Thomas, if that's you, I'm probably fine so stop fussing, or I'm mad at you, and in that case, you know where I'll be. Please leave a message after the tone... beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep"_

Surprised as I listened to Madison's overly familiar voicemail, I began to get very worried indeed.

"James? It's Thomas," I said nervously, unsure of how to word my thoughts. "I-I know I said some pretty horrible stuff, and I know I probably sounded serious, but I promise you that I meant none of it. You probably won't listen to this, but I'll be there soon, and I'll tell you in person. Um... bye."

Knowing how rife street crime was in NYC, I quickly stowed my phone away as I neared Abingdon Square, limping faster than ever now. Even from my position by the gates, I could see Mads sitting, shivering on his bench.

"Mads!" I called over to him, and before he could rush off, I sat on his lap to prevent any escape. "We're going to sort this out, right here, right now."

_Madison's p.o.v_

OHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYY GOOOOOOOOOOOD, THOMAS JEFFERSON IS SITTING ON MY LAP. DO. NOT. FANBOY.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Our faces were barely an inch apart, and we gazed into each other's eyes. You can learn a lot from someone's eyes. The morning sun reflected from his soft dark eyes, and the innocence that hid in their depths was startling. The air around us was sharp and crisp, and for a moment, it only seemed to be us in the whole world. I shook myself back into reality.

"Look, I didn't mean any of that stuff I said," I told him, trying as hard as I could to maintain eye contact. "I-"

"I forgive you," he replied almost instantly, fiercely hugging my midsection, not being able to reach any further up than that. "You were in pain, probably still a little drugged up, you didn't know what you were saying."

I hugged him back, a wave of affection for _mon petit ami_ rushing forward. This man had stuck with me my entire life, through the good times and bad times, and I was grateful for that. More than grateful. I don't know how to explain it, emotions are complicated and annoying.

"OI, DO THAT ON YOUR OWN TIME, FAGGOTS!" one vile homophobe jeered, causing Madison to flush a deep crimson. I whipped round to face him, fury blazing in my eyes.

"GET SOME LESS OUTDATED VIEWS!" I yelled back, before calling him an obscenely rude name and pulling Madison away and towards the road, stepping out to hail a cab.

I didn't even see the car coming.

_Madison's p.o.v_

Thomas stepped out into the road, not too far at all, in a bid to hail a cab. In boredom and trying to shake the shock from the sudden verbal attack back at the park, I scanned the road, starting when I saw the Chevrolet. It was speeding dangerously fast, and was veering towards where Thomas was standing. Breathing hard, I watched as cars swerved in the road, and I knew exactly what I had to do. Without a second thought, I shoved Thomas towards the pavement, slamming hard onto the tarmac.

The last thing I felt was the car slam into me before everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Suddenly, someone shoved me, hard, from behind. I went down like a bowling ball, hitting my head on the pavement and angering my leg even further. Hearing shouts behind me, I hauled myself up, ready to yell at anything and anyone as my head swum.

That was, until I saw Mads.

He was lying on the floor, a mangled car flipped on its side next to him. Every part of him seemed to be covered in crimson, and his eyes, his beautiful kind eyes that never hurt anybody were closed. Before I knew what I was doing, I was screaming, pushing past the small crowd, trying to get to my best friend, vowing to personally deal with the moron who did this to him.

"He's my friend, please!" I howled as someone, a tourist, most probably, attempted to hold me back. "Let me get to him!"

Looking down on him, I surveyed his injuries. His arm was twisted almost 180 degrees, the bone poking through the skin. There was a deep laceration on his forehead, and that's as far as I got, unable to look at him anymore. It struck me, then, as I watched the blood mingle with the dirt, that it must've been him who pushed me out of the way of the car that may have very well killed him. He'd saved my life.

"Thomas Jefferson!?" someone, a kindly-looking old woman, shouted. "Is anyone here Thomas Jefferson?"

"I am," I croaked, unable to keep the tears from pouring down my face. I was pulled forward, and I saw then that Mads had woken up, and he was looking around wildly for me.

"Thomas?" he groaned as I knelt next to him. "That you?"

"Yeah, I'm here," I whispered, wiping back his short hair in a gesture of comfort. "You're gonna be okay, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he told me softly, placing his hand on my cheek: I savoured the touch.

"I can keep this one," I said firmly.

"Sorry for pushing you. You okay?"

"Don't worry about me."

"You're bleeding," he said, concerned, and when I brought my fingers to my forehead, they came away bloody.

"Whatever, I'll sort it out later," I brushed it off, trying not to stare at his arm. "I'm afraid, Mr Madison, you'll have to focus on yourself."

He giggled. His laugh. I love his laugh. It's the sort of tinkling laugh that lights up the entire room and makes everyone else join in, even if nothing is really funny. It's the sort of laugh stand-up comedians crave, and I love it.

Looking helplessly at me, he coughed a little, and it took all of my energy not to scream when a small dribble of blood ran down his chin.

"You need to promise me you'll look after yourself," he said, serious now as even more tears poured out of my leaky eyes. "Promise me, Thomas."

"I won't need to because you'll be here," I replied. We clutched onto each other for dear life, and all the background noise, all the yelling seemed to fade out, and it was just me and him.

"It hurts!" he howled suddenly, trying to curl in on himself.

"I know, I know," I begged with him. "You need to stay flat, Mads, you might have a back injury."

"Since when did you become a doctor?" he asked, his voice hoarse as he lay flat again, his uninjured hand clamped on his side.

"I watch a lot of daytime TV."

He laughed again, blood gurgling deep in his lungs.

"Don't do anything stupid," he told me before his eyes slid shut again.

I pretended not to hear my own scream.

I pretended not to see myself shaking him, trying to wake him up.

I pretended not to hear the ambulance approaching.

I pretended not to see the awful bruising to his abdomen.

I pretended not to notice the grave looks on the paramedics' faces.

I pretended not to be sitting next to him in the ambulance, a paramedic fussing over my bleeding head and handing me my cane.

I pretended not to hear the frantic beeping of the heart monitor.

I pretended not to hear the scream of _"CLEAR!"_ when we got to the hospital.

I pretended not to see his body jolt up from the electricity before the glass in the door was hastily covered.

I pretended not to have fainted from the concussion.

I pretended that the whole thing had never happened.

888888

When I woke up, I was dressed in those stupidly thin hospital robes that were open at the back, and was connected to about a dozen machines. When I put my hand to where the pain was, I felt a thick gauze pad. Turning my head painfully to the side, I spotted Eliza sitting there, engrossed in a magazine. I coughed to grab her attention, and she rushed to my side as soon as she saw that I was awake.

_Eliza's p.o.v_

I made my way hastily to the side of his bed, and he looked up at me in terror. His eyes and hair were wild, and he looked almost feral.

"Is Mads okay?" he asked desperately, grabbing my hand. "He has to be okay."

I allowed myself a grim little smile.

"He's alive," I replied. I don't think I've ever seen someone look so relieved in my life as he threw his head back into the pillow, laughing out loud.

"He's okay," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. I didn't have the heart to tell him that Madison had died 3 times during surgery, gone into hypovolemic shock and now didn't have a spleen. "Do you know what happened?"

The demanding tone in his voice surprised me, but I answered honestly.

"No. As both your's and Madison's emergency contacts are each other, they called the last person in your phones, which was us. Alexander's with Madison now."

"He saved my life," he whispered so softly that I could barely hear what he said, addressing the bedclothes before looking up at me. "He shoved me away without even thinking of his own life."

I couldn't help but give a small smile at how clueless he was to his own emotions. The love and awe were evident in his voice, but he would not admit it, his stubborn pride blocking the way.

God, I hoped, for both their sakes, that Madison pulled through this.


	5. Chapter 5

_Madison's p.o.v_

Unconsciousness is fun. I should try it more often.

They say that you don't dream whilst you're unconscious. I beg to differ. My mind was rife was thoughts and fantasies ( _not_ sexual, all you perverts out there) of Thomas. Walking through, it was almost like a timeline of our lives together, all the way from tiny children to me dying in his arms by the side of a dirty NYC road. Sure, if I had died, he'd probably have been upset for a few weeks. Would've dented the wall like he did when his hamster died when he was 7. But he would've got over it, moved on, got on with his life. If I hadn't have shoved him out of the way, he would've died, I think. I wouldn't be able to live without him: I can't even think about without shuddering.

I don't know how long it was before I felt the pull of reality. At first, I resisted, making a indignant noise, but then I remembered that I could see Thomas again, in person this time, and I eagerly swam towards consciousness.

That first opening of my eyes, as they weren't used to the light, let alone harsh hospital lights. Almost immediately, I snapped them shut again, hissing in pain. Much of my body felt pleasantly numb, and I assumed that they'd given me pain meds, morphine, most likely. With renewed strength from the darkness, I tried again, managing to keep them open.

"Mr Madison?" someone said, and the bright light disappeared into a softer glow.

"Mm," I mumbled. "T'at's me."

"He okay?" I heard... hang on, was that _Hamilton?..._ say.

"Where's Thomas?" I asked, more alert now, but my jaw refused to co-operate and I came out all slurred and sloshed together, like a toddler's finger painting.

"He's asking after Jefferson," Hamilton translated, and for once, I was happy for that arse being there. "Jefferson's fine, Madison."

"Wanna see him," I said as firmly as I could, trying to sit up but being pulled down by a sudden sharp pain. Looking down, I started at the criss-crossing of stitches on my abdomen, and the heavy cast my arm was encased in.

"I think he's still asleep," Hamilton replied. "When he wakes up, I'll send him in here."

I smiled gratefully at him, finally getting a good look at the doctor. She was a young woman, about 24, and very pretty, her dark hair falling in her face. All I wanted was Jefferson, though. I needed to make sure that he was okay. Determined to stay awake, I watched as Hamilton disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with Thomas in tow. He looked awfully tired, a large gauze pad obscuring his forehead. Clearly he had been admitted, because I spied the admission band under the dirt-stained cuff of his hoodie, but, being stubborn as ever, he had changed into normal clothes, and he had somehow purchased a pair of grey joggers from somewhere.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, kneeling next to my bed with some difficulty.

"Stop with this namby pamby shit," I told him. I didn't want to talk to socially-acceptable Thomas; I wanted to talk to my Thomas. "I'm not dead, so can't complain, really."

He laughed, clutching my hand.

"Jesus Christ, never do that to me again," he said. I nodded my head, my face mock-serious.

"I'll try not to get run over again."

"I mean it, Mads. And don't shove me, it bloody hurt."

"Sorry," I mumbled, smiling at him. "I just wouldn't have been able to live without you."

God, his face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my bruised cheek. My eyes darted over his eyes, the shape of his face, the bounce of the hair that fell in his face. We stayed like that for a few seconds before he pulled away, heading back towards the door.

"I-I'm gonna go, you must be tired..." he said, stumbling over his words, which was very unlike him.

"Basically you're tired," I cut in. He nodded sadly, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, sorry," he said apologetically before hurrying out the door, leaving me to my own frenzied thoughts.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

My heart was beating wildly and I felt dizzy as I rushed down the corridor, pushing past doctors and nurses to reach my room. I hate hospitals in general, but ICUs I have a particular loathing for. They were associated with far too many bad memories for my liking.

As soon as I got in my room, I went to lock the door, forgetting that hospital rooms don't have goddamn locks. Settling for jamming the hospital-issue crutch which I wouldn't be seen dead with in the doorframe, I sat cross-legged on the bed, contemplating my emotions. Madison seemed to spark some emotion deep inside of me, something I couldn't explain. It made my heart race, my mouth go dry, my...

Oh, _fuck._

I was in love with my best friend.

At this realisation, I almost fell of the bed as I jumped up, swearing loudly. I was in _love_ with James Madison, my _best friend_ since nursery. This was not good. Not good was an understatement. It was atrocious, terrible, awful... well, the point is, it was just bad!

He was straight, I told myself. _I_ was straight. Apparently not. This did explain why I couldn't hold down a girlfriend for more than a couple of months and I dressed so flamboyantly and why everyone seemed to think that we were a couple whenever we did anything together, however.

There was someone at my door. They were jiggling the handle, yelling at me to open the door. Suddenly feeling scared, I backed up towards the furthest wall.

"Go away!" I shouted back, my voice thick with fear.

"Let me in!"

The voice was unfamiliar, deep and menacing. Curling up into a protective ball, I trembled.

"No!"

"Let me in!"

"No!"

I heard them sigh in frustration, before they threw all their weight against the door. The crutch held, but a small crack appeared in the plastic. Knowing I wouldn't be safe for much longer, I scrambled upwards and fled into the small en suite bathroom, locking the door and blocking it with anything I could find. The toilet brush. The mostly-empty bin. Towels. A drawer thing that felt pretty heavy. Outside, I heard the crutch splinter and the door fly open. Suppressing a whimper, I once again went to the far corner, adopting the fetal position.

"Jefferson?" the person called, their voice uncertain now. "Where are you?"

Keep silent, I thought as I breathed shallowly through my nose to minimise the noise.

"I saw him coming this way."

Hamilton, as well. I heard movement, and froze like a deer in headlights.

"This his cane?" the man- it had to be a man, it was too deep for a woman- said, and my blood boiled as I imagined this big musclehead holding my cane between his beefy fingers.

"Yeah," Hamilton replied in a casual tone.

"Mr Jefferson?"the man called, cautious. "I'm with the police. I want to talk to you about the accident."


	6. Chapter 6

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

"So he just shoved you out the way?"

I dropped my head into my hands in exasperation, fighting the strong urge to slap his stupid fat face off.

"No, a great big green alien did," I replied sarcastically. "Who else would've!? I've told you this about a million times. Has it got through your thick skull yet or is it still stuck at passport control?"

I like that insult. I'd used it on Hamilton once, and I still maintain that the black eye was totally worth it for the look on his face, so ignore whatever Madison tells you about it.

"I just wanna make sure I get the full story," he said, his Tennessee accent thick. There was a couple from Tennessee that used to live down the street from me and Mads when we were younger. Anyway, not important. "So you were tryna hail a cab, then he pushed you and next thing you knew, he'd been run over?"

"THANK YOU, WE GOT THERE!" I exclaimed, giving him a mocking round of applause. "Now piss off so I can get some bloody sleep."

He held up his hands in a symbol of surrender, but I gave him another glare and he quickly scuttled out.

"It's nice to know that it's not just me you hate," Hamilton said from the corner, and I shot him a dirty look.

"You can piss off as well," I grumbled as I curled up, sighing in annoyance as I almost choked on my hair, angrily flicking it out of my face. When I didn't hear the door close within 10 seconds, I flipped him off without even looking at him.

"Charming!" he huffed, and the door slammed loudly, causing my head to pound even harder than it already was. Concussions aren't as fun as I remember, I thought dryly as I pulled the thin blanket over my head to block out the sunlight that filtered through the useless curtains. My brain wanted to break out, and my skull was currently trying to negotiate its staying, but getting beaten up in the process. I was still reeling from the fact that I was in love with my best friend.

Out of the blue, I figured out the answer. Of course! Seizing my phone from the bedside table and composed an email to Lafayette, one of my buddies from France I'd actually managed to stay in touch with. He'd asked me to write in English, which made it considerably easier on my injured brain.

_Dear Lafayette,_

_How are you, mon ami? Things here in America have gone a little downhill since you last emailed. The other night (I can't remember whether it was one or two nights ago now), I somehow ended up at Hamilton's, of all people. Before you ask, no, I was not drunk, I could barely walk. You know how the old wound gets sometimes._

_Madison, of course, came over and we stayed the night at Hamilton's. We had a bit of an argument, but managed to work it out. Before we could get home, however, something awful happened: I was trying to hail a cab, when Madison pushed me out the way and was subsequently (that's ensuite in French) hit by a car. He saved my life._

_I suffered a concussion as a result of being pushed, so they're forcing me to stay at the hospital for "monitoring", but Mads is much worse. I've visited him once, and he seemed okay, but I realised something. I think I'm in love with him._

_What do I do? I don't know if I can tell him; there's no way he likes me. Please help?_

_Merci, et au revoir,_ _[Thank you, and goodbye]_

_Thomas Jefferson_

Before I could double-cross myself, I clicked send, sighing as set my phone down next to me.

The response was almost instant, and I was surprised at the speed at which Laf could type.

_Dear Thomas, [the email read_ ]

_Mon ami! Tu es amoureux! JE LE SAVAIS! [My friend! You are in love! I KNEW IT!] It was so blindingly obvious that I'm surprised you didn't notice sooner._

_I'm very sorry to hear about James' situation. Send him my best wishes, and don't overexert yourself fretting, Jefferson. Concussions can be nasty._

_As for your problem, I would just tell him how you feel. To be completely honest, I think he loves you back! I see it in his eyes everytime you two are together (which is a lot)._

_Amusez-vous, et l'essai de ne pas se tuer, [Enjoy yourself, and try not to kill each other_ ]

_Lafayette_

The French hurt my head a little, but luckily it was easy enough to translate, and made me giggle. Yawning deeply, I let my arm snake out and place my phone back on the table.

"Mr Jefferson?" someone with a very docterly voice said cheerfully. Ugh. At this point, I was just about done with the majority of the human race, so I just slumped, refusing to come out from under the blanket like an indignant 3 year old.

"How do you feel?"

Apparently they'd had experience with stubbornness. Ah.

"Tired," I grumbled, poking my head out just so the doctor could see my narrowed eyes. "And I'd be sleeping if you weren't badgering me."

She (as I could now see that it was a woman) smiled apologetically at me, picking up my chart.

"Are you always so stand-offish, or is it the concussion?" she asked conversationally.

"No, he's always been an ass," Hamilton's voice drifted in from the corridor, and I screamed at him to go away, punctuated with rather a few obscentities.

"Enemy?" she inquired, and I made an uncommitted noise.

"Sort of."

"I know you're political enemies," she replied, scribbling something down on the chart. "Everyone's always talking about your rivalry."

"Look, lady, I don't wanna talk," I snapped as kindly as I could. "Come back another day and play again."

She grinned at me, and before she made her way out, she pressed a small sheet of paper onto the bed, winking.

Curious once she had left, I unfolded the note. Even better, it said:

_Christine 07817 635893_

_Call me xoxo_

Lip curling in disgust, I flung the note across the room and watched it float into the wastepaper basket.

Contemplating my dilemma, I slipped off into a doze.

888888

When I woke up, a few shy rays of sunlight were peeking their through the paper-thin curtains. Grumbling, I slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I yawned as I dragged myself up, trying to shake the stiffness out of my leg just like every other morning. It was sort of nice to be doing something normal. Took my mind off the fact that my best friend (who I was in love with- did I mention that?) was lying still half-dead in a hospital bed because I couldn't use my eyes properly. Huffing, I splashed my face with water, in a bid to wake myself up. I snatched my pills off the glass cabinet, swallowing a couple dry. Uh oh. The bottle was looking dangerously low, only a few pills rattling around when I shook the bottle. Pursing my lips, I stowed them back in the pocket without taking another look at them. I knew that the hospital's pharmacy wouldn't refill the bottle without my prescription. Which, helpfully, was at mine and Mads' apartment. Aw, well. Ibuprofen would do until Madison was released from the white, freaky-clean prison.

Hissing a little when I caught the gauze as I pushed my hair behind my ears, I made my way over to the mirror and cursed loudly, seeing that the dressing was hanging on by one corner. Embracing the enivitable, I ripped it fully off.

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped, probing the bruised skin. This was the first time I had seen the cut, and it was pretty deep, still looking pretty delicate, as if touching it was enough to rip it back open. The bruise was a dark purple (yeeesssssssss, score!) and sore to the touch, standing out on my mocha- that's what James calls it- skin. Scrabbling through the cabinet of medical supplies, which probably should've been locked, I soon found some cotton pads and masking tape. Let's just say, the end result looked like I'd allowed a toddler to play doctor.

Dragging my feet behind me, I couldn't be bothered to pick up my cane, and as my leg felt relatively okay, just a little stiff, I headed towards Mads' room.

He was still asleep when I got in. Half-asleep myself, I went to sit on the chair I had seen last time I was here, but I found myself sitting on the _President's_ lap.

"Um... hi, Mr President," I muttered, frozen in place. He chuckled, shaking his head. It was strange seeing him in normal clothes. Yeah, most of the government wore suits, but I used my leg as an excuse to wear whatever I wanted; I once turned up in my fluffy Cookie Monster onesie because I woke up late and couldn't be bothered to get changed, and no-one questioned it.

"How are you, Thomas?" he said warmly, tipping me off his lap before standing up and offering me the seat. I took it gracefully, looking at him quizically.

"Fine..." I replied, sounding skeptical.

"Why do you sound so scared? I just wanted to check up on you two," he exclaimed, surprised. "Take as much time as you need off, just let me know when you know when you're coming back."

I nodded in his general direction, but my eyes and mind were fixed on Madison. Watching his chest rise and fall, I felt a sense of calm fill me at the simplicity of life: a life that only two days ago had been in grave danger of ceasing altogether. No, I totally don't have unresolved issues I need to work through. His jawline was obscured by a light 5 o'clock shadow, and it occured to me just how strange he looked with facial hair, as he usually went to extraordinary lengths to keep himself clean-shaven. One of his hands was encased in a thick white cast, but I could see the tips of the fingers that poked out twitching ever so slightly.

Grabbing a black fineline Sharpie which lay on the side and an evil grin plastered on my face, I began to work on the cast, gaining a strange look from Washington.

"What are you drawing?" he asked inquisitively, but I shushed him and continued, my tongue sticking out in concentration. A rough outline drawn, I leant back to let him see my handiwork. He gasped softly. I had began to draw me and Madison together as small children, around 5 or so. Every image, every crease and fold of his face was forever imprinted in my mind, never to be forgotten. In this particular picture, our arms were thrown around each other's shoulders, and we were grinning cheesily.

"I never knew you could draw so well," he murmured as I went back to my drawing. It wasn't a particularly accurate drawing, just a cartoon rendition of us.

"What are you doin'?" Madison's deep voice came suddenly.

"Don't move," I instructed him, and he chuckled but did what I asked. I could hear him and Washington chatting, but I was so immersed in my drawing that it was little more than background noise. Madison's voice had a sort of musical quality to it, and I began to absently hum to _Waving Through A Window_ before realising what I was doing and shut the hell up.

"Okay, done," I exclaimed after around an hour. Washington had hung around to see the end result, which, if I do say so myself, was pretty spectacular. There was us, of course, but I'd added a rough background, the towering tree dominating.

"It's really good, Thomas," James said tiredly, and I chuckled softly to myself.

Oh, only if I could tell him.


	7. Chapter 7

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

4 days later, disaster struck.

I'd been released after decorating the cast, and made migrated to Mads' room, not really moving since. It was... Monday? I think, when I went to take my morning pills, which I had been taking religiously since the Hamilton incident, and the bottle was empty.

I shook the bottle, terrified. What was I going to do? I didn't need a repeat of that again, no-sir-e! Cracking the door of the ensuite bathroom open a little, I checked that Mads was still asleep, and snuck out to the pharmacy, closing the door silently behind me. Walking down, thoughts of my feelings towards Madison consumed me and I trembled a little, groaning as I saw the long, snaking line that ran all the way into the corridor. Joining the back, I almost wished my cane had one of those weird seat things on it, so I could sit down, because it looked as if I was going to be here for almost an hour. I decided to text Mads, so when he woke up he would know where I had gone.

**TJeffs: Sup. Down at the food court, might be a while cos the line's horrible. Want anything?**

His response was quite fast.

**Mads: Iced tea, if ur still w8ing after an hour, come back**

I prayed for my leg's sake the line wouldn't take more than an hour. It wasn't like I was addicted or anything, my doctor had me on pills that weren't too easy to get addicted to, but it bloody hurt if I didn't take them. I could just about manage without them, but I didn't want to. It'd hurt.

Someone in front of me, a kind yet tired-looking dad with 3 kids hanging off of his arms, saw my cane and my pained expression, and took pity on my, letting me cut in front of him in the line.

"Are you sure?" I squeaked as he ushered me forward at least 10 people, who all glared at me in annoyance. He simply nodded and my faith in humanity was restored. At least, until I got to the front desk.

"What do you mean you can't refill it?" I demanded, leaning over the counter. "I'm pretty sure my medical records are on the internet, have a quick look and get the bottle filled!"

"We can't refill prescriptions without a signed note from your normal doctor," the pharmacist sneered at me. "We find it helps weed out drug seekers, Mr Jefferson."

"Oh, so you think I'm a drug seeker, now, huh?" I yelled, my voice having now at least tripled in volume as I turned to the small crowd. "Who here thinks I'm a drug seeker?"

No-one raised their hand. They knew me: I was high up in the government, appeared on TV rather a lot against my will and kept my private life pretty un-private.

"Sorry, it's hospital policy," the pharmacist said, looking uncomfortable now. "Unless you have a prescription, we can't do a refill."

"Fine!" I snapped, finally having had enough. "But expect repercussions."

I stalked off to the food court, remembering that James had asked for an iced tea. That worried me, to be completely honest: he only asked for iced tea when he was getting sick. Luckily the line wasn't too bad, and I was soon walking back with smouldering anger surrounding me and a cold ice tea in my hand.

"I got you tea," I whispered, resigning myself back to the uncomfortable chairs from the depths of hell.

"You know I seriously don't care if you go back to the apartment," Madison said, taking a sip, but I shook my head fiercely.

"You get released tomorrow, I can manage one more night."

Even my voice was trembling as I talked to him. Oh, yeah, I hadn't told him. Lafayette was constantly bugging me over email to ask him out, and had even gone so far as to threaten to come to America to set us up. I had discovered about the extent of Mads' injuries after hijacking a doctor in the hallway.

"Feel okay? Do you need any extra pain meds?" I fretted.

"I'm fine," he replied. "The IV comes out tonight, then antibiotics for a couple of years. We'll have to clean out the apartment 'cause I'm more prone to infections."

"You mean more prone than you already are?"

"Yeah."

We laughed together, but we stopped short when someone very French-sounding cleared their throat at the open door.

"Lafayette?" I said disbelievingly, and as I turned my head to see, I indeed saw the tall Frenchman grinning at me.

" _Mes amis!_ [My friends!]" he cried, throwing his arms around the two of us in turn.

"Laf, why are you here?" I asked, pretending to be confused.

"When you told me James was 'urt, I wanted to make sure he was okay," he replied, winking at me. James was looking back and forth between us in a bizarre fashion.

"Are you two related or something?" he inquired quizzically.

"Cousins," we replied simultaneously, used to the question.

"It's been a while, James," Laf said, smiling broadly as he hugged him. "Thomas, would you mind if me and James could talk alone for a few minutes?"

Confused and slightly scared, I nodded and stepped outside the door, hoping Laf wouldn't let anything too important slide.


	8. Chapter 8

_Madison's p.o.v_

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" I joked, chuckling uncertainly. Pulling up a chair, he shook his head, his face serious.

"I'm going to tell you something, and you 'ave to promise me to not... 'ow you say? Freak out."

I nodded, terrified.

"Me and Thomas were emailing," he took a deep breath. "And 'e told me that... that 'e thinks 'e's in love with you."

W. O. A. H.

I was not expecting that. My jaw dropped open and my eyes widened as I stared uselessly at his giggling form. Thomas Jefferson, childish politician, mac and cheese lover, all-round universal cool guy was in love with _me,_ slightly-shorter-than-average, jittery fanboy.

"Whaaaaaat?" I managed to say. Laf giggled even more.

"I'm guessing you like 'im as well," he said, and I nodded fervently. "I KNEW IT! Now, 'e won't ask you out in a million years because 'e's too scared, so we need to formu... formul... make a plan!"

I just nodded along, still trying to process the news.

"But how?" I asked weakly. "Spell it out in mac and cheese?"

He shook his head, fanboy phase now over.

"You two live together, right?" he asked.

"Yep," I answered, popping the 'p'.

"Do cute little things. Leave 'im anon... anony... _pour l'amour de Dieu,_ [for the love of God/ for God's sake] unsigned notes at work to start off with. Make 'im coffee, mac and cheese, whatever. Write a 'eartfelt note, slip it in wih the post. Don't rush into it."

"Is this how you got Hercules?"

He blushed before confirming that this was indeed a tried-and-tested method.

" _Bonne chance, mon ami_! [Good luck, my friend!]" he called back to me before hurrying out of the door, leaving me as confused as ever.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Laf came out of James' room grinning like an egotistical maniac.

"You wanna go out with 'im?" he asked. Very direct.

"Obviously."

"Be cute. Try not to be subtle as a brick as you usually are. _Bonne chance, mon ami!"_

And with that he was gone, leaving me bewildered in the hallway.

_Lafayette's p.o.v_

Heh heh.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Careful to be as quiet as humanly possible, I tiptoed back into Madison's room to find him fast asleep, slumped over the- flippable? moveable?- bedside table. Being as gentle as my being would allow, I lay him back in the bed and tucked the table away by the cabinet.

Sitting back on the stone chair, I set about redressing my head wound. Peeling the gauze off slowly, I bit my lip to stop myself from hissing in pain. I grabbed my portable mirror (yes, I have a portable mirror, get your judgemental ass over it) and made sure to check the cut wasn't infected or anything nasty.

Running my fingers over the thick scab, I sighed as I felt the almost scale-like skin, unconsciously picking at the edges. What is it, I wondered, about the human psyche that makes us want to scratch and pick at scabs, the body's natural defence against bacterial infections? Snatching my hand away, I observed the skin around it, making sure it wasn't red or inflamed. Sure, it still stung a little from the freshly-removed gauze and there was a fading yellow-ish bruise, but it seemed fine and I decided that it could do without the gauze now.

"Thomas?" James said sleepily, and all of a sudden my full attention was on him.

"Yes l- Jemmy?"

Phew, that was a close one. I barely caught myself.

"Lafayette gone?"

"Yeah," I replied, shuffling my chair closer to the bed. Clumsily, he reached up and ruffled my hair, playing with a couple of loose strands.

"I love your hair," he murmured. "It's so soft and bouncy and... floofy."

My heart pretty much went boom. I could hear the blood rush in my ears as we struggled to maintain eye contact.

"How's your head?"

I shrugged, almost thankful but also sad that the moment was over.

"Fine," I answered , resting my arms on the edge of the mattress. "Healing and doesn't hurt anymore."

He looked happy to hear that.

"The leg?"

"Just as stubborn as normal, but it's okay."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the floor, the wall, the seats, the ceiling.

"Thomas, I know you don't want to go home," he begged out of the blue. "But I'm getting released tomorrow, I need some decent clothes and you need a shower."

I protested bitterly, but a quick sniff of my t-shirt revealed that I probably smelt like a skunk had just sprayed on me. And anyway, he was right: the hospital gift shop probably didn't stock his size.

"Okay, I'll go," I pouted, untangling myself. "I'll be back soon, yeah?"

"Mphf."

Casting a wistful look back at his already sleeping form, I began to head home.

888888

The journey was disastrous. No exceptions.

Too terrified to hail a cab and knowing better than to walk in New York, I tried to decipher the bus timetable. That fell through pretty quickly when I was on the verge of screaming whilst trying to figure out the colour-coded bullshit.

So, the subway. I took a deep breath and headed down the damp stone steps to my own personal hell.

It was manic, to say the least. All I could see was people, people, people left, right and center, talking monotonously on their phones and rushing around, pushing past me without even so much as a muttered apology. Suddenly, I was violently shoved from behind, almost sending me flat on my face. Regaining my balance, I turned to face the asshat, a smug-looking man who was taller than me. It was a strange feeling, having to look up at someone.

"Watch where you're going," I snapped, storming towards my platform, flashing my ID to the man at the ticket barrier to get through.

The platform was packed, and I caught snatches of Spanish (mainly _Ay! Paciencia y fe..._ [Oh! Patience and faith...]), French, Chinese and even Greek. After a few minutes, the train arrived, and that was an adventure in itself, but once we were all packed on like sardines, the next job was finding a seat to rest my aching leg. Usually, people saw the cane, felt guilty and shifted, but apparently today was not one of those days. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a man with a laptop balanced on his knees (stupid decision, but whatever) sitting in one of those 'reserved for disabilities' seats, and tapped him on the shoulder. He didn't even look at me, just casually pulled out an earbud.

"Um, could I please sit there?" I asked apologetically. He looked up at me, disgust written all over his features. "It's just..." I trailed up, sheepishly holding up my cane. He thought for a moment, then shook his head and continued on his laptop.

"Oi, arsehole!" someone shouted from across the carriage. The voice was distinctly British. "Let the poor bloke sit down!"

I cast him a grateful smile.

"Computer outweighs cane," Laptop Guy said in an infuriatingly even tone.

"Please?" I begged, clinging on to the pole as the train lurched unsteadily forward, already feeling my leg buckling. The entire carriage was staring at us, some filming the exchange, eager to know who would strike next.

"Computer."

"Cane!" I exclaimed, angry now. A bolt of pain shot through my leg, and I was almost sent on to one knee. Many people noticed my leg begin to shake with the effort of staying upright, and a few yelled at him to, and I quote: "move his fat ass before they moved it for him". He shook his head again, looking bored.

The Brit had now forced his way up the carriage, and allowed me to lean on his steady frame whilst he screamed at Laptop Guy. Finally fed up with the number of shouts coming his way, Laptop Guy huffed and grumpily got up, glaring at me as he flounced off. People cheered as I sat down, sending a thankful smile bouncing down the carriage.

"Can I post that on YouTube?" someone called.

"And Facebook?"

"Sure!" I laughed, grinning as I got my phone out and texted Madison.

**TJeffs: Mads, u will not BELIEVE what just happened**

**Mads: What?**

After a quick search, I easily found the video, giggling as I watched it back.

**TJeffs:** _**Sent a video 2:38** _

**Mads: XD**

**Mads: You in the seat?**

I replied with a stupid selfie of me in front of the same poster Laptop Guy had been sitting in front of.

"Hey, um... thanks," I said shyly, suddenly realising that I hadn't thanked the Brit.

"No problemo," he answered, grinning. "You looked like you needed a break."

For some reason, I immediately felt uneasy, worrying that he was hitting on me as his eyes seemed to rake over my body.

Letting out a sigh of relief as the doors pinged, I scrambled out of the train, throwing a hasty thanks behind me as I ran towards the surface.

888888

My hands shook as I reached under the plant pot for the spare key, unlocking the magenta door with a soft click. Feeling very at home, I closed the door behind me and immediately headed to the bathroom, desperate to wash my greasy-feeling hair.

I soon emerged, my hair wrapped in towel and wearing my huge fluffy dressing gown **(A/N: this is a hilarious mental image)** as I flopped on the sofa, quickly flicking through Instagram. Selfies, lunches, blah, blah, blah... I stopped short when I came across a news article. The picture was of me and Mads by the side of the road, him in my arms. My breath caught in my throat, and I threw my phone onto the sofa as I stumbled to my bedroom, sliding over the bed (it's called convenience, people, look it up) in the hallway to get changed.

Onesie or normal clothes? I perused the choices for a few minutes before throwing an Oakland tee and some jeans into a backpack and slipping into my snug Cookie Monster onesie. Hurrying to Madison's room, I picked up some pyjamas as well as his sick clothes, particularly that oversized sweater that I could've sworn was mine he was fond of.

I made my way back out, remembering to grab my phone and cane, and to lock the door behind me. I'd barely walked 500 metres before Hamilton drew up in his ugly green car, sighing.

"Get in," he huffed, and I grudgingly got in the back seat (Eliza was in the passenger seat), not wanting to face another seating crisis. "Why are you wearing a onesie?"

"None of your business," I snapped, folding my arms over my chest and keeping my eyes fixed on the road, pulling my hood up. He glared at me, breezing through the oddly quiet streets.

It didn't take long at all to reach the hospital again, and Hamilton seemed eager enough to get rid of me, so I thanked him for the ride and headed inside, my attire gathering more than a few strange looks as I hurried to James' room.

"T-T-Thomas?" he yawned, blinking blearily as I entered. "That you?"

"Yeah," I whispered back, setting the bag on the floor.

"You were quick," he said, sitting up slowly. As he did so, I saw that the IV had disappeared, the entry point covered by a huge white plaster.

"Hamiltrash gave me a ride back," I replied, resting my head on the soft mattress. God, it felt so soft and I was so exhausted...

"Don't drool all over my sheets again," he grinned, but I only heard it faintly as I drifted off again. Sleep is so nice...

_Madison's p.o.v_

Small snores came from Thomas' unmoving form, and I smiled softly, fondling his hair. This man is ridiculous, I thought as I looked at his clothing. The onesie. Why the hell had he worn the onesie?

I groaned internally as a cough forced itself from my lungs. Even at a hospital, one of the most sanitary places on earth, and whilst on antibiotics, I had managed to get a cold. Just my luck, huh? I hoped that Thomas had brought my oversized sweater: don't tell him, but I stole it from him about a year ago and he still hasn't noticed! For a supposedly smart guy, he's pretty clueless sometimes. Not that I care at all.

Glancing at my beautifully decorated cast, I grabbed a biro, thanking God that I was left-handed, and began scribbling down a note.

_Dearest,_

_I've often admired you from afar-_

That's as far as I got before realising that he would recognise my loopy handwriting and crumpling the paper into a tight ball, about to take a badly-aimed shot at the wastepaper basket. At that moment, I sneezed loudly, jolting Thomas awake and causing me to hastily hide the note.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" he panicked, resting the back of his hand against my slightly warm forehead. "No, you're warm, that's not good, I'll go get someone!"

I caught his arm before he could run.

"I'm fine," I told him calmly, and he looked at me with begging eyes. "The doctor told us that my compromised immune system means that I'm gonna get colds a lot more."

"I swear you already have one 24/7," he grumbled before smirking coyly and shooting out his hand, grabbing the note before I could stop him. Looking me dead in the eye as he uncrumpled it, I felt my face heat up. He cleared his throat dramatically.

"'Dearest'," he began in a passionate voice, nodding approvingly. "'I've often admired you from afar-'... Mads has a crush!"

Was that... disappointment in his voice? No, it couldn't be. My face was now so hot you could roast marshmallows on it as he bugged me to reveal the person's identity. I couldn't tell him. Not here, not now.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

As soon as I read the note, I felt the world crash and burn around my ears, but kept my tone playful for his sake.

So he had a crush. Great. Fantastic. Congratulations to him. It only spelt disaster for me. Under the bed, I quickly texted Laf.

**TJeffs: PROBLEM**

**TheFrenchBaguette: What?**

**TJeffs: Mads has a crush**

**TheFrenchBaguette: On who?**

**TJeffs: Dunno, found a note**

_Lafayette's p.o.v_

I facepalmed, sighing at my cousin's idiocy.

"'Erc!" I called, and Herc emerged from his sewing room. "Look 'ow stupid my and your cousins are." James is Herc's cousin, you see. He read the message and burst out laughing, covering his face with his hands.

"They're clueless, both of them," he giggled, kissing the tip of my nose. I would have to intervene.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Well, unfortunately for Laf, we didn't need any intervention.

I never knew rejection could feel so bad. It felt as if a hole had been ripped through me, and a part of my very being was missing. I know it sounds cliché and stupid, but I was honestly taking the news badly.

"Fine!" James snapped, arms folded. "I'll tell you who it's to, but you have to promise me not to freak out."

I nodded, fear settling in the pit of my stomach. "It's to you."

All the air was knocked out of my system, and I stared at him open-mouthed.

"I, James Madison Jr., am in love with you, Thomas Jefferson."

Before I knew what was happening, my lips were on his, and we were kissing, we were finally kissing! His lips felt even better than I had imagined, and his hand was warm on the back of my neck.

There was a cheer behind us, and we broke apart to see an ecstatic Lafayette and a disgruntled yet joyful Hercules Mulligan. Laf babbled away in rapid French, and Mulligan shook my hand an murmured menacingly in my ear,

"You hurt him, you won't live long enough to brag about it."

I nodded solemnly, my fingers entwined in Jemmy's as we grinned at each other other, Laf taking literally hundreds of pictures and claiming it would make the perfect Instagram post.

"Now kiss again!" he squealed, and we happily obliged just as Eliza, Angelica, Alexander and Washington walked in.

"Congratulations!" Eliza said excitedly, snapping a picture.

"Jefferson," Angelica said coldly, narrowing her eyes at me. I squirmed in my seat, my cheek stinging faintly as I remembered my last encounter with the eldest Schuyler sister. **(A/N: this is true, Google it if you don't believe me. Angelica literally once bitch-slapped Jefferson so hard that he used to refuse to go to events if Angelica was going to be there)** "Be good to him."

Washington looked as if he was about to burst with paternal pride as he shook my free hand, observing our joyful faces before we kissed again.

"Do that in your own time," Hamiltrash piped up, and we all collectively glared at him.

_Madison's p.o.v_

As everyone gave Hamilton a dirty look, I tapped Laf on the shoulder, smothering him in a hug before he could say anything.

"Thank you, Laf," I murmured. He laughed and patted me on the back.

" _A_ _ucun problème, mon petit ami,_ [No problem, my little friend]" he replied as Thomas glared daggers at Hamilton.

"So we're officially going out, Tommy?" I asked incredulously, still not quite believing that this whole thing was real.

"If you wanna," Tom replied nervously. I nodded fervently, but I was beginning to feel absolutely exhausted, despite having been sleeping for the majority of the last week or so. Thomas saw this and discreetly ushered everyone away, hanging around in the doorway for a few moments to exchange some rapid French with Laf. He soon came back, motioning for me to move over. I did so, and he snuggled next to me, his face buried in my shoulder.

"I'm so glad," I murmured, and I could've sworn he muttered "I love you" before we drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

_Madison's p.o.v_

When we woke up, I think it might have been the middle of the night, as the room was pretty much pitch black, only a thin stream of light illuminating Thomas' face.

"Thomas?" I whispered, and he mumbled a little in his sleep before his eyes slid open.

"Yeah, love?" he said equally as quietly, and I felt a warm feeling blossom in my chest at the nickname.

"Are we really going out?"

By the faint glow of the streetlight which filtered through the blinds, I saw him smile.

"Course we are, babydoll."

I hugged him fiercely around the middle, burying my face in his stomach. His skin was soft and smooth, and yet I could feel the impressive muscles underneath.

"You're so beautiful," I murmured, tracing the features of his face with a delicate finger.

"I know you are, but what am I?" he replied, and I smiled back at him.

"You know what I'm talking about," I said, feeling my cheeks heat up. Thomas slipped his hand into my hair, pulling me closer into his chest. I snuggled into him, and his body heat helped sooth my tight chest.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, drawing patterns in my chest.

"It gets worse before it gets better."

He frowned then, shifting away for a moment to put his hand to my forehead.

"You're a bit warmer than earlier," he observed. His voice was better than any painkiller for my aches, the soft Southern twang reminding me of home. I sniffed feebly, pulling him close again.

"Don't ever leave me," I told him as I dropped off to sleep again.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

He was ever so cute, lying there with me. His short cropped curly ebony hair, his dark chocolate smooth skin, his short yet adorable stature... I don't think there's one thing I couldn't say I didn't love about him. His breathing, however, was laboured and raspy, and it worried me immensely. I made a mental note to mention it to the doctor on the morning rounds. I wrapped my arms securely around him, and at that moment vowed to myself that I would protect this perfect little human being at any cost.

He was mine, and I wanted it to stay that way.

888888

I woke up when I heard the doctor come in for his rounds. James stayed asleep, which would make this considerably easier.

"Doctor Franklin?" I asked nervously, sitting up carefully as so not to wake up the angel. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to me, smiling kindly.

"Thomas, isn't it?" he replied, shaking my hand firmly as I nodded. "What can I do for you, son?"

"I think he's ill," I babbled. "He says it's just a cold, and he gets colds a lot, but it seems worse than normal, I just wanted to check with you."

He looked concerned as he brought out an ear thermometer, checking his temperature: Mads didn't even stir. The thermometer read 100.4F, a fever, but not too bad. A quick listen to his chest, and Franklin seemed satisfied.

"You did the right thing in being concerned," he said, making me gasp. "But I think it's just a cold. If the fever reaches 103F or persists for more than 4 days, bring him back here. I'm signing the release papers."

He passed me a few sheets of paper, said to hand them into the front desk and left the room.

"Jemmy," I whispered, shaking him awake. He opened one eye, his face breaking out into a grin when he saw me.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, stealing a kiss before I showed him the discharge forms.

"You're free, my prince!" I exclaimed, and I would've whirled him around if I could have. He giggled, but it soon dissolved into a coughing fit and I found myself rubbing his back, whispering soothing words in his ear.

"Why do I get colds so much?" he groaned.

"Because your immune system sucks."

I helped him sit up, grabbing the sick clothes from the backpack which I'd totally forgot about. "You want help getting changed?"

_Madison's p.o.v_

I nodded my head, holding up the cast uselessly. I took the gown off and Thomas slipped the King's College t-shirt on for me.

"You got the sweater?" I asked, and he brought it out with a flourish. "I can't wait to go home!"

"Me neither," he agreed, planting a kiss on my forehead. "How are we getting back?"

"We can get a cab..." I began to say, but the look of pure fear in his eyes cut me off. "Okay, bus?"

"If you can figure out the timetable, sure."

I giggled, kissing him again, my hand tangled in his hair. He pulled away, and I made an indignant noise.

"Ah, ah, ah, when we get back," he smirked, and I smiled back.

It would be perfect as soon as we were out of here.

888888

"I HATE BUSES!!!!" Thomas yelled, jabbing his finger at the timetable. I hopped from one foot to another, my bruised legs getting more tired by the minute. "It says _here_ that it was supposed to be here HALF AN HOUR AGO!"

"Calm down," I said inbetween coughs, wrapping my free arm around my chest and pushing my way forward. "Well, for a start, that's not our bus. Our bus comes in 5 minutes, Thomas."

He watched me shiver, and suddenly his arms were enveloped around me, warming my numb body. Self-consciousness gone (if you can't see them, they can't see you, people), I leant into his warmth.

"How about that bus ride?"


	10. Chapter 10

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

So... bus rides are fun, aren't they? To start off, yes, I _did_ read the timetable wrong, but that's not the point, is it? The bus came exactly when Mads had predicted, and I immediately scampered to the back, securing the best seats in the corner. James paid the driver slowly, making his way to sit himself next to me. Discontent, I pulled him into my lap, making him blush.

"Thomas..." he murmured, his face now resembling a ripe tomato.

"What?" I exclaimed. "Am I not allowed to show affection to the man I love?"

If it was possible, he turned even redder as he tugged the hem of the sweater down even further, even though it was already way past his thighs.

"I suppose so," he replied in a small voice.

"What's up?" I asked, worried; the bus moved forward. "You're acting a little... off."

_Madison's p.o.v_

My heart began to pound, my legs trembling even though I was sitting down. Feeling weak, I gave a feeble cough, shrugging. I could feel every bump in the road, and they seemed to vibrate through me as Thomas looked at me with an anxious expression, his dark eyes concerned- an emotion which was there far too often for my liking.

"It's just the cold," I mumbled, averting my gaze.

"No," he shot back almost immediately. "This is something else."

Damn his cold hard logic.

"I'm just a little self-conscious about the stitches," I admitted, wrapping my arm around my abdomen. I wasn't lying, either- it was ugly and horrible- I was just omitting part of the truth. It seemed enough for Thomas, as he peppered my stomach with kisses, his hair tickling my skin.

"You are perfect and beautiful and those stitches don't change anything," he told me firmly, pressing his lips on mine. At first, I was a little surprised, but I soon melted into the kiss before remembering I was sick and pulling away. Thomas looked as if I'd just ran over his puppy. "Why'd you pull away?"

"I'm sick!" I cried. "I don't want you to get sick as well." Looking up, I spotted our apartment, lunging for the button. "We're finally home!"

We hopped off the bus, and the lanky Virginian ran towards the door as I thanked the driver, hobbling to Thomas, who was rocking excitedly on his heels.

"Wanna do the honours?" he drawled, holding the key aloft in a dramatic fashion. I giggled and nodded, slipping the key into the lock, hearing the satisfying click before pushing it open and finally entering the apartment. It was pretty much how I'd left it, but there was now a magenta towel flung across the living room: I turned to a red Thomas with a raised eyebrow. That stupid bed was still in the hallway, but I couldn't be bothered to walk to my bedroom, so threw myself on the bed, curling up under the slippery cold silk sheets. I don't know why Thomas insists upon them: it's like sleeping under eels, for God's sake! Anyway, not the time. Thomas came over and I felt the edge of the mattress sag a little under his weight, his hand caressing my cheek. I was tired, so tired...

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

His eyes slipped shut again. I don't know what it was, but I was suddenly struck by how much I love this man. Sure, he's small and snores a little (well, a lot), but he's completely perfect. I curled up next to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. We were home, and it was our home now.

_1 week later- Madison's p.o.v_

It was finally time to get the wretched stitches out. The cold had now passed, but Thomas' kisses and hugs throughout the last week or so had given him a really awful one. He insisted that he was fine, but the flushed cheeks, runny nose and harsh cough declared otherwise.

"Have you got a coat on?" I fretted as we hung around in the doorway.

"And 2 hoodies," he replied weakly as I straightened his scarf almost obsessively. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

Giving him a stern look, we headed out to Thomas' car, which was surprisingly not purple, but a pleasing red (they didn't do magenta). "I'll have to teach you to drive at some point," he mumbled as we got in.

"That's a point," I announced, thinking back to before the accident. "Why didn't you take your cane, your phone, or get in your car? How much of a hurry were you in?"

Thomas murmured something inaudible, eyes glued on the road ahead. "C'mon, Tom, tell me."

"I woke up late and I wasn't going to give Hamiltrash something to rub in my face!" he blurted, sinking as low as he could in the seat whilst still being able to drive. "He already had my hair and my clothes and apparently my entire life."

I slipped my hand into his, smiling supportively. He glanced at me for a moment, a grin slipping onto his melancholy face.

"You missed the turning."

888888

The doctor's office wasn't too busy, just a few people milling around lazily. Thomas tried to sneeze inconspicuously as we sat down, but failed greatly and did what was quite possible the loudest sneeze in the history of mankind, gathering the attention of the entire waiting room. He hid his face in my coat, but thankfully for him, the doctor called my name pretty quickly.

"Mr Madison, have a seat," she said warmly, casting a slight look at Thomas, who was hanging off me for dear life. He was surprisingly light, and I sat him on lap like a little toddler. "How have you been?"

"Not too bad, considering," I replied cheerfully, shaking her pre-offered hand with the one that wasn't trapped around Thomas' waist. "Had a bit of a cold, but it's passed now and the stitches seem to be healing."

"Would you mind if I had a quick look?" she asked, and I nodded, trying to coax my boyfriend (God, it felt so good to call him that) off my lap.

"It'll only be for 5 minutes," I said, turning his head towards me.

"Promise?" he whispered, and after I promised on all of our potential children and my parents' future grave, he moved over and allowed me to lie down on the examination bed, nervously slipping off my Princeton College t-shirt. Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, she probed the stitches gently. Looking quickly over, I noticed that Thomas looked... almost jealous. His arms were folded moodily and he was staring daggers at the doctor.

"These look fine," she proclaimed, grabbing a sterile stitch-cutter from the drawer. "I think they can come out today."

"Hold my hand?" I asked shyly, and Thomas rushed over, entwining my fingers in mine as the doctor began to cut the stitches.

"So, Princeton, eh?" she said conversationally. "I did some of my training there."

"What year?" I asked, intrigued.

"Graduated in '12."

"Me too!" I exclaimed, trying my best not to move. **(A/N: this is working on Mads and TJeffs being 28, so being born in 1990, going to college in 2008 and graduating with a Bachelor's in 2012)** "I studied politics."

"James Madison!?" she replied, equally as excited as me as she continued to cut the stitches with professional precision. "I remember you! Anna Kripke? I lived two dorms down?"

"Your roommate was George King, yeah?"

"God, yeah. He used to always bring his shitty boyfriend Samuel Seabury back to the dorm when I was tryna work. What about your boyfriend?"

She jerked her head towards to Thomas, who was coughing violently into the crook of his arm.

"He studied for 3 years in France, but he was my roommate for the last year," I explained, casting a concerned glance at him.

"I totally shipped you two!" she squealed, doing the last stitch. "Oh, I'm so glad it worked out!"

She let me get up and put my t-shirt back on, Thomas wrapping his arm around my waist as she handed me a small piece of paper. "Just be careful with your stitches, and give me a call. We'll meet up for coffee?"

"Sure," I replied, thanking her and dragging a mardy Thomas out to the car. "What's up with you!?" I demanded, giving him a small shake. "You're acting really weird and it's scaring me. Please tell me what's going on!"

He look in shame at the floor, and I was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

"I'm... just scared, I suppose, that this isn't going to work," he mumbled, bottom lip trembling as a single tear trickled down his face. "That all the vile homophobes and the jerks are gonna get to one of us and it'll all go wrong."

I attacked him in a hug, murmuring in his ear,

"I love you, and nothing can change that. You always have to remember that."


	11. Chapter 11

_5 weeks later- Madison's p.o.v_

"Where are we going?" I asked for the millionth time, trying in vain to see through the thick black blindfold as I flexed my newly-free wrist. Early in the morning, around 8:30, Thomas had snuck up behind me and hastily tied a super-secure blindfold around my head, leading me out to the car. At my reckoning, we had been driving for about an hour or so, but I had no idea where we were.

"You'll find out!" Thomas exclaimed, turning down the radio a little. "I guarantee it'll be the best first date you've ever been on!"

I could imagine him smiling evilly, but I was distracted as we pulled into somewhere, and the car stopped. Thomas led me out, his hand always in mine to guide me. His slender fingers undid the knot, and the blindfold fell away, revealing something I hadn't expected in a million years. A water park.

It may not seem like an ideal first date, but I was ecstatic. I adore water slides, and I constantly rambled on about coming to this particular water park for months.

"Tommy, it's awesome!" I squealed, throwing myself at him.

"I thought you'd like it," he chuckled, patting my back and walking me into the reception area. I immediately ran and pressed my nose against the glass, peering into the vast water park. I made a quick mental list of the slides I wanted to go on: all of them! Thomas pulled me away from the window and towards the changing rooms, the locker key dangling from his finger. "Wanna share a changing room?" he whispered seductively in my ear, making me blush furiously.

"Let's keep it PG, and have separate rooms," I warned, giving him a quick kiss before grabbing my bag and firmly locking the door before he could follow me. I emerged not long afterwards in boring black trunks, my t-shirt still on self-consciously.

"You gotta take the t-shirt off to go on the slides," Thomas said suddenly from behind me, making me jump. I turned to see him leaning on the lockers, wearing only a pair of magenta shorts, exposing his muscled torso. I felt my face heat up again. "C'mon, Mads, it isn't that bad!"

"It is!" I insisted, but this was contradicted by the fact that I was grudgingly removing the t-shirt. There was no way I was missing out on these slides. I refused to look down at the disgusting scarring from the surgery, hiding it with my arm as best I could. "Let's go swimming!"

The water park was even bigger than I'd imagined, and I didn't know where to go. Directly to the left of the entrance, there was a multi-coloured four-lane slide, which small children were throwing themselves down with delighted shrieks. As you looked up, there was a blue slide that I recognised to be The Nucleus, the rubber ring slide. Straight ahead was The Space Bowl, and just to the right of that was a twisty orange slide: I think it was called The Twister. Up the spiralling staircase that lead to the latter slides were 3 flumes. Near the rubber ring queue, there was an area which contained lilypad floats and metal handholds above, which a bunch of teenagers were trying to get across. Spotting the rapids, I dragged Thomas over to the bustling queue in the water, forgetting all about the scars.

When the water first hit me, it was surprisingly warm. Thomas took my hand, leading me to the front of the line. Just as we got there, someone shoved him violently from behind, and he went headfirst into the water, emerging spluttering and coughing.

"My hair!" he wailed, and sure enough, it was now down to his shoulders, almost as straight as a poker. He snapped the dripping hair tie from his wrist and put his hair into a messy ponytail, muttering angrily to himself. The lifeguard opened the door to the rapids, and I felt the current pull me into the circular pool.

"Come on!" I called to him, and he forgot all about his hair as he followed me in, entwining our legs in the water.

"Love you," he murmured, pulling me into a kiss. I didn't pull away until we smashed into a wall and a sharp pain exploded in my hip.

"Love you too, babe," I said as the lifeguard yelled for our group to make our way out of the pool. "That wasn't very long, was it?"

"No," he agreed as we headed to the spiral staircase, which was already packed full of people. The sign on the side of the bars read _L_ _eft for the flumes, right for the Twister and the Space Bowl._ As we wanted the former and the left side was relatively empty, we began to ascend, but we were cut off by a snooty woman. She looked as if she had dog shit under her nose, her eyes cold and calculating. Off her arm hung a young boy, no older than 6 or 7. She wore a skimpy bikini which was clearly too small for her, and she kept glancing disapprovingly at our joined hands.

"I think you'll find the line's here," she announced loudly, leaning her arm against the opposite handrail to prevent any escape as she motioned to the right side.

"Now you listen here, lady-" Thomas began heatedly, but I shushed before he did any irreversible damage.

"Sorry, but it says on this sign that if you want the flumes, you queue on the left," I said politely. "It seemed clear, so we were just gonna head up."

"You were 'just gonna head up', were you?" she mocked, doing a horrible impression of me. I could feel the anger that radiated off of my boyfriend, but to his credit, he kept his mouth shut. "Well, think again mister. And the two of you can stop _that_ ," she gestured to our joint hands. "In public. It's disgusting, frankly, and I don't want my little Lionel's pure mind to be twisted and poisoned with your freakishness."

I felt tears sting my eyes, looking to the ground as she pushed in front of us. "And put a shirt on, no-one wants to see your horrible scars!"

That was the last straw. I couldn't stop the tears from falling, and, embarrassed, I ran straight back to the changing rooms, grabbing my t-shirt and hastily pulling it over my head locking myself in a toilet stall with Thomas hot on my heels.

"Jemmy!" he called, hammering on the stall door. I slid down to the floor, my back against the graffitied blue plastic. Tears flowed down my cheeks uncontrollably, and I sobbed as quietly as I could, which was still too loud. "Let me in, Jemmy, I'm not gonna hurt you. That woman was just being ignorant and idiotic."

"She's right!" I howled, dropping my head into to my hands. "She's bloody right, Tommy!"

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

My hands slid down the door, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

"Right about what?" I asked cautiously, flicking a stray strand of hair out of my eyes.

"The scars!" he wailed back, and I could hear him hiccuping in an effort to stop crying. "They're disgusting and horrible and-"

"She's wrong," I cut him off, my heart breaking a little more with each passing millisecond. "She's so wrong that she-"

"Is everything okay in here, fellas?" someone said behind me, and I quickly looked around to see a lifeguard standing there in his red shorts and yellow t-shirt, his hand up in a gesture of peace.

"Yes!" Mads called from the stall, but his trembling voice betrayed him.

"No, it's not," I admitted, not moving from my position flattened against the door; my leg was starting to hurt again, but once I was back in the water it should have been okay. "I think we just suffered a homophobic attack, and now my boyfriend's too scared to come out here."

"I'm not scared, I'm embarrassed!" Mads yelled hoarsely as the lifeguard looked horrified.

"I'm so sorry," he rambled. "I'll find the person and have them thrown out immediately, don't you worry."

"No," I found myself saying. "Don't ruin it for her kid, it's not his fault his mother's a bitch. We'll just avoid her."

"I'm not going back out there!" Madison said, his voice shaking again. "Sorry for ruining our first date, Tom."

"It's not your fault," I soothed as he cracked the door open a little, letting me see his red eyes and tear-streaked face. "I promise they don't look bad at all, she was just trying to get to you."

"Do you promise me, and not just a fake-promise like when you promised you wouldn't eat mac and cheese for a straight week when I went on residential, but a proper promise, that they don't look bad?" he said seriously, wiping his eyes furiously as he stepped out.

"I promise," I said sincerly, giving him a hug. "Now get that t-shirt off so we can go on some water slides!"

He giggled, perhaps a little brokenly as he slowly removed his t-shirt, dragging his feet when he put it back in the locker.

"Seriously, if anything else happens, come tell me," the lifeguard said. "The name's Justin."

I thanked him, and we headed back to the spiral staircase, and I thanked the heavens that the snotty woman had gone. God, when I found out her name...

_Madison's p.o.v_

"I wanna go on The Space Bowl," I piped up bravely, still feeling a little rattled from the verbal attack. Thomas turned to me with wide eyes.

"Seriously?" he said slowly. "You want to go on something that flings you around and deposits you in a 2-metre deep tank?"

I nodded vigorously, my excitement growing by the second. "Be my guest. I'm going on The Twister."

I gave him a look as I joined my line, which was significantly longer than Thomas'.

"Ciao, amigo," he yelled before launching himself down the orange slide. Shuffling my feet forward, it was over 5 minutes before I was at the front. The lifeguard signalled for me to go, and I was off.

The start wasn't too bad, just a little twisty and fast. I soon entered a large bowl-like thing, and I was flung around it at a very high speed. It wasn't until I was nearly there that I realised I was going to be spat out backwards and head-first. Squeezing my eyes shut and holding my breath, there was aloud _smack_ as I hit the water.

"I CAN'T _BELIEVE_ YOU DID THAT!" Thomas yelled as I surfaced, grinning.

"Scaredy-cat," I jeered as I climbed out.

The rest of the day went past too quickly. Thomas tried to get across the lilypads, but just succeeded in slipping off and hitting his nose on the bottom of the shallow pool, resulting in a trip to the First Aid room. Before I knew it, we were getting back in the car, Thomas' hair just starting to dry and get its bounce back.

"Best. First. Date. Ever!" I proclaimed, the car pulling out onto the highway.

"I'm glad you had a good time," he grinned. "But you have to plan the next one."

"Okay," I replied, smirking. "Be prepared for some awesome shit."

We laughed together, poking fun at some of the pedestrians.

God, I love this man so much, and he's very good at planning dates.


	12. Chapter 12

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Unfortunately, the recovery period was now over and we had to go back to boring ol' work. Madison for one seemed eager to get back; he was getting restless at home with nothing to do.

"Alarm on?" he asked as I lay down in his room.

"Yes, and I don't see why we can't sleep in my bed," I protested lightly. He snapped the light off, shaking his head as he padded over to join me.

"It's in the middle of the fricking corridor and it hasn't got proper sheets!" he replied, lying next to me. "Here's fine."

I chuckled, tying my hair into a loose bun. He regarded me curiously, yawning a little.

"I'm not tired!" I complained, even though I was and my eyelids felt like they were being weighed down by a thousand tonnes. "I don't wanna sleep, Mads!"

"See how that suits me," he mumbled, his voice faint. "I'm going to sleep."

Soon, he was snoring lightly, and I allowed myself to smile a little at his cuteness. I yawned, my hand on my leg as I dropped off to sleep. I was not anticipating the next day with much joy.

888888

When the alarm went off, I'm gonna be honest, it hurt like hell. Groaning, my hand slapped along the bedside table, trying to find the off button to make the high-pitched squealing shut up. Opening my eyes slowly, I started when I saw that Mads wasn't lying next to me.

"Jemmy?" I called carefully, dragging myself up and towards the kitchen. He was sat on the sofa in the living room, fully dressed with a cup of tea (splash of milk, 2 sugars) in his hand. He grinned at me in my disheveled state, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"God, you're really _not_ a morning person, are you?" he said rhetorically as I tried and failed three times to find the coffee pot, still half-asleep. I finally found it, sipping the bitter dark liquid like it was a magical potion before reaching into the fridge and pulling out a tub of cold mac and cheese, grabbing a fork and digging in, much to James' disgust.

"What?" I asked, my mouth full.

"Ew, that's just gross, but whatever," he said, placing his book down on the side of the sofa. "Well, I've been up since 3, so all your clothes are on the chair and I've left your meds on the side."

I smiled gratefully at him through the mac and cheese.

"Have you taken your antibiotics?" I asked, suddenly remembering the missing spleen. He nodded, and I slumped all the way to the bedroom. He'd set out all of my non-purple clothes, and I pouted for a moment before getting changed at the speed of light, spying my glasses at the bottom of the pile. "Why are my glasses here?" I called. "You know I wear contacts now!"

"You look sexier with glasses," he shouted back, and I nervously put them on to please him, surveying myself in the mirror. The clarity was startling, considering that I hadn't worn them since France. Shrugging to no-one in particular, I let my hair loose and shuffled back into the living room.

"Hamilton is gonna have an absolute field day with this one," I grumbled, pushing the blasted things further up the bridge of my nose.

"There's nothing wrong with them," James insisted, pecking me on the cheek cheerfully. "Ready to go, babe?"

I patted down my pockets. Phone? Check. Wallet? Check, but probably empty. Keys? Check. Cane? Grabbed it, and check.

"Ready," I confirmed, slipping into my comfortable purple trainers. I will never be defeated on the purple front! "Walking or driving?" I asked when we stepped out into the street.

James scrunched up his adorable little face as he peered skywards.

"If you feel up to it, we could walk," he suggested meekly. Shaking my leg a little, it felt fine so we headed towards the government building **(A/N: I know it all happens in Washington D.C, just roll with it)**.

"Traffic's awful," I remarked as as strolled down 181st, holding hands tightly.

"I know," he replied, surveying the long line of stressed-looking business people in their Range Rovers and their Nissans. "Hate to be stuck in it."

There's two types of conversation with us. There's the easy, naturally flowing type, and then there's the forced one which is awkward and best left in silence. Today was the latter, and we walked along quielty, but soon my leg began to get tired and I was lagging behind a little, my limp more pronounced.

"Should've taken the damn car," Mads muttered, pulling me over to a bench and looking me over worriedly. "Are you okay? Do we need a couple more days off?"

"I'm fine, just a few tired muscles," I said, standing back up, feeling much better already. I couldn't confine him to the apartment any longer. "It's only 2 or 3 more block, isn't it?"

_Madison's p.o.v_

We made it to the government building just in time.

"Does everyone know about us yet?" I asked.

"Probably, but we'll act... not-together until we're sure," Thomas replied, kissing our joint hands before releasing me and striding confidently into the huge lobby, heading straight to the large office space like a man on a mission: I was hot on his heels.

As soon as we entered the communal office area, we were assaulted by balloons, party poppers and applause from every angle.

"Welcome back!" Washington announced over the din, beckoning Burr and Hamilton forward. They were carrying a huge cake which read: _Welcome back, and congrats on finally getting together!_ Giggling, I watched Thomas brandish the knife as if it were Excalibur and cut the cake dramatically, wrapping his free arm around my waist.

"Thank you, guys," I said, flashing a smile around the room. "It means a lot."

"We just ask that you keep this away from the press," Thomas added nervously. "We don't need that kind of attention."

Everyone nodded solemnly, John Jay already munching on a piece of the rich chocolate cake. As I looked closely at it, there appeared to be rainbow sprinkles in it.

"Washington, Burr, Hamiltrash, over here!" Thomas called as people gathered into small throngs. The three came over, intrigued. Thomas fidgeted a little, so I took over.

"We were wondering if you three, your wives, maybe a few friends" I began, but Thomas cut me off.

"You three, Eliza, Theodosia, A-Anglica, Maria, Laf, Laurens and Herc," he rambled. I marvelled at his chill.

"Yeah, would you like to come over for drinks? We could get some pizza, do karaoke, whatever. No kids, though."

They all nodded eagerly, and Alexanded pulled out his phone.

"I'll make a group chat!" he said excitedly, and we complied, heading to our desks for a day of hard work.


	13. GROUP CHAT BONUS CHAPTER

_April 12th, 12:37 a.m.:_ _MyShot created party group chat._ _MyShot added HERCULESMULLIGAN, TheFrenchBaguette, SchuylerSister#2, CommonSense, AndPeggy, Turtles4eva, Theo32, Burr, TheGeneral, SayNoToThis, TJeffs and Mads._

**MyShot:** God, Burr, your username is sooooo boring!!!

**SchuylerSister#2:** Be nice, Alex

**Turtles4eva:** Why am I here?

**MyShot:** Oh yeah, **@Tjeffs** and **@Mads** are having a party and everyone on this group chat is invited.

**Mads:** Guys, it's midnight. Shut up, I just got Thomas to sleep and if he wakes up again there will be hell to pay...

**TJeffs** : WHAT'S UP BITCHES WHAT'D I MISS!?!?!?

**Mads:** Now look what you've done. Thomas, go back to sleep.

**TJeffs:** I'm right next to you

**TJeffs:** No need to shout

**Mads:** I took his phone off him. Goodnight, we'll talk in the morning.

_April 13th,_ _8:49 a.m._

**TheFrenchBaguette:** _Bonjour, mes amis! Il y a beaucoup du soleil, non?_ [Hello, my friends! It is sunny, no?]

**CommonSense:** I think there was just a surge in the use of Google Translate

**HERCULESMULLIGAN:** Haha, I have my own real-life translator *wink wink*

**Burr:** Go be gross somewhere else before Theodosia hijacks my phone again

**Theo32:** Are talking about me, Aaron?

**MyShot:** Yeah, A-A-Ron?

**Burr:** Not you, dear, our daughter who currently refuses to get up

**Theo32:** Coming...

**TJeffs** : God I am soooooooooo tired

**Mads:** It's because you _insisted_ on playing MarioKart all night on the Wii

**TJeffs:** I couldn't sleep, okay?

**AndPeggy:** You guys have a Wii? That sort of thing belongs in a museum these days!

**TJeffs:** Jesus Christ when did you get here?

**TheGeneral:** When is this party?

**Mads:** This Saturday, be at 31 Mercer at 7

**TheGeneral:** Thank you, Madison

_TheGeneral left the group_

**TJeffs:** I think we scared him off

**SayNoToThis:** Hey guys, you don't really know me but I'm Maria Reynolds, a friend of Peggy's

**SchuylerSister#2:** So your place at 7?

**Mads:** Yup


	14. Chapter 13

_Madison's p.o.v_

I was so anxious before the party. Was the apartment clean enough? Were there enough snacks? Would the alcohol run out (this was very unlikely, as we had far too much already and people were bringing their own)?

"Sit down and relax," Thomas said, patting the space on the sofa next to him as I stress-polished a really ugly vase.

"They'll be here any minute," I fretted, throwing down the cloth and rushing over to him. "How do I look?"

He looked over my simple attire (black jeans and white polo) and smiled.

"Just perfect," he replied softly, bending down to kiss me just as the doorbell went. I pulled away far too early and ran to answer it. Hamilton, Eliza, Laf and Hercules stood there, Herc brandishing a bottle of vodka like a weapon. Eliza held a bottle of wine much more demurely.

"WHAT TIME IS IT!?" someone down the hallway yelled.

"SHOWTIME!" Alexander, Laf and Herc shouted back, welcoming a relatively short (but still taller than me) and freckly young man, who looked around 24 or so, his curly hair pulled back in a loose bun.

"Guys, this is John," Alexander said, pulling the stranger forward. "John Laurens."

Laurens shyly waved to us, and I ushered them in, taking the drinks and putting them on the kitchen table. The room suddenly felt very full, and there was people still to come. Thomas must have felt the nervous energy radiating off of me, as he came up and hugged me from behind, making me jump.

"Jesus Christ!" I squealed, leaping about a foot in the air. He looked hurt, backing off a little.

"I-I didn't mean to scare you," he stuttered, his eyes glued on the floor. Rushing over to him, I wrapped my arms around him, smiling into his chest.

"You didn't."

The doorbell went again. Herc had already chugged an entire bottle of beer, and had sat Laf on his lap on the sofa. Thomas went this time, and two younger girls stood there, Angelica hurrying along after them.

"This is Peggy and Maria," Angelica said, out of breath as they stepped inside. Maria stood awkwardly at the side; she wore a cute red dress, and she kept glancing at Peggy, who was fangirling over... something with her sisters.

"Hey," I said softly, so not to scare her. She gave me a small smile. "I don't think we've met before?"

"I know Thomas from a few years back," she replied shyly, pushing her curly hair back behind her ear. "You're James Madison, right?"

"Yeah."

We shook hands, and I led her to the drinks table. Thomas was chatting in French to Laf, whose hair was being braided by Herc. Grabbing a bottle of beer, which was strange for me, I made my way over to my boyfriend.

"Babe, we should order the people now everyone's here-"

Burr, Theodosia and Washington burst through the door, apologising profusely for being late. "We should order pizza."

Thomas put his fingers to his lips and did an unbelievably loud whistle, causing everyone to cover their ears and glare at him.

"Who's for pizza?"

888888

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

3 hours later, and all the pizza was gone, we were sufficiently drunk and sitting in a circle on the floor. To be completely honest, neither me nor Madison remember this at all, but we watched the CCTV footage afterwards to find out why there was a pair of underwear on our fan.

"I propose we play true or not," Madison announced, swaying a little in my lap. "I'll ask you the questions, and every time you get one wrong, you have to take a shot."

Everyone nodded, Herc draining his glass and clambering over to where the vodka sat, pouring out 10 beginner shots. Madison cleared his throat, and the games began.

"Alex, true or false? Thomas once had a murderous goat."

My face drained of colour as everyone stared wide-eyed at us. Alex scoffed.

"False," he said smugly. "No way."

"Iiiittttt'sssssss... true!" James announced, and everyone blew up with laughter and disbelief.

"Not the goat..." I muttered despairingly.

"What did it kill?" Burr asked.

"2 or 3 chickens, another goat and nearly the neighbour's 3 year old son." **(A/N: he did have a murderous goat that actually killed a kid.)**

Alex grumbled a little as he took the shot, slamming the glass on the makeshift table (the thickest encylopaedia on the shelf).

"Thomas, true or false?" he said, turning to me with a sloppy drunk smile. "The General likes to play his knife and fork like a drum at the table?"

I looked around the room, my eyes landing on Washington's now incredibly red face.

"True," I said, yelling triumphantly when Mads nodded proudly at me.

"James, true or false?" Laf said suddenly, his accent thicker than ever. " _Thomas cassé une fois son poignet en essayant d'impressionner une fille."_

"Thomas once broke his wrist trying to impress a girl," Alex supplied. James thought for a moment before nodding confidently.

"Alas, 'e is right!" Laf giggled.

"How did you know?" I asked, bewildered.

"Sounds like something you'd do," James answered simply.

"Mr President, sir, true or false?" Alex said; clearly he was feeling brave. "Thomas once had a 'violent headache' for 2 days after embarrassing himself in front of a girl he liked."

I could feel James shaking with laughter as I dropped my head into my hands.

"What is it, national 'embarrass Thomas' day?" I muttered.

"I'm gonna say false," Washington said, sounding confident.

"Awww, it's true!" Alex replied, his eyes glinting evilly as he held up his phone. "Someone posted your medical records online, dude."

Washington took a shot surprisingly quickly, not even wincing as he slammed the glass down.

"Thomas, true or false?" he addressed me by pointing at my chest. "When I first started out as President, I sent Congress a letter basically saying I was looking forward to working with them, but I was busy so I got Madison to write it. Congress sent one back because they couldn't ignore the President, and got Madison to write it. Basically, Madison wrote 4 letters to himself from himself and was too embarrassed to admit it."

"False," I blurted, throwing my arms into the air. "Mads wouldn't do something like that."

"It's true," Madison murmured, looking at the floor.

"Whaaaaaaaaat?"

Washington smirked at me, gesturing to the alcohol. Sticking my tongue out at him, I swiped up a glass and tipped its contents into my mouth, swallowing quickly. The alcohol burned the back of my throat, and I couldn't help but gasp. I instantly felt a little more woozy.

"Aaron: true or false?"

888888

Another hour later, and most of our group were smashed out of their faces, passed out on our floor. Here's an itemised list of what we learned: Burr once set himself on fire when he shot a candle trying to light it because his gun was nearer and he couldn't be bothered to get a match; Burr spent $40 on a _coconut_ in London; Laf once got an alligator as a present and gave it to John Quincy Adams because he didn't know what to do with it; Peggy was short for Margarita; Angelica bitchslapped me when I tried to hit on her (well, I knew that but the others didn't) and they wouldn't let Hamilton fast-track through Princeton because Mads tried to do it and had a nervous breakdown.

Only me and Mads were awake, and barely at that. He lay in my arms, giggling away to something in his head.

"Hey, Tommy, how does James Jefferson sound?" he asked suddenly. If I'd have been even a tiny bit sober, it would've shocked me- and it bloody did when we watched the tape back- but I was so drunk that I didn't even register it.

"Or Thomas Madison?" I slurred, resting my hand sloppily on his head.

"Mmm..." Madison chewed this thought over for a few minutes. "Nah. What about James Jefferson-Madison? James Madison-Jefferson?"

"Or just keep our own names?" I added. "What if someone calls 'Mr Jefferson' and we both look up?"

We laughed whole-heartedly at this.

"Love you," Mads murmured before he dropped off, nothing more than a dead weight on my legs. I followed not soon after, sleeping blissfully after a killer night with some awesome people (some annoyingly so). Whatever, it was awesome, and I couldn't have asked for anything more.


	15. Chapter 14

_Madison's p.o.v_

The morning after the party, we all woke up on the floor with very stiff necks and hangovers that would've knocked out a horse. Or an elephant, perhaps. Everyone dragged their asses out of our front door after raiding our aspirin stores, until it was only me, Thomas, a sleeping General and Hamilton. Washington's arm was wrapped protectively around Alex's waist, in a way that said _you mess with me or my son, there will be hell to pay._ Eliza had gone already to relieve their babysitter.

"God, my head is about the split open," Thomas groaned, head lolling as he lay on the sofa, an arm over his eyes.

"Mm," is all I could say as a wave of nausea hit me.

"I'm never drinking again."

"Agreed," Washington's scratchy voice said suddenly from down on the floor. We both looked over to see the President of the United States sitting up groggily, rubbing his head and extracting his arm from around the Treasury Secretary. "Martha is going to murder me, I told her I'd be home by midnight."

We watched, awestruck as he shook Hamilton gently, causing the Carribean man to snuffle a little in his sleep and lean towards Washington's warmth.

"Son, you need to get up," George whispered. Hamilton whimpered.

"Don't wanna, Dad," he murmured, and Washington gapsed a little, his eyes filling with tears, but he kept it together as Hamilton's eyes slowly opened. He sat bolt upright and ran towards the bathroom, Washington hot on his heels. We heard him throwing up, much to Thomas' distaste, who draped a hand over his stomach and groaned deeply.

"Tom, I'm gonna go down to the store and grab-" I began to say, but he cut me off as I turned towards the bedroom.

"Don't."

I turned to look at him. His eyes were wide and wild as his phone slipped from his loose grasp, crashing to the floor. Confused and terrified by his strange behaviour, I picked up his phone to see what had scared him so much.

What I saw shocked me.

The first thing to hit my eyes was a picture of us. We were kissing, my hand entangled in his hair. The background was dark, but I could make out a lamp, the light just catching the edge of our faces. I think we were in our room, but I wasn't sure, the picture quality wasn't too good. The caption read _Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State and Senator James Madison, both 28_. The article was titled _Cabinet Controversy._ As I read the article, my world, our world began to collapse around me.

_Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson and Senator Madison, according to our anonymous source, are allegedly in a sexual relationship. The informant tells the New York Post that they have been together since a car accident in which they were both injured almost 2 months ago. Many are calling for the two to stand down from their posts. The White House has yet to comment on this shocking matter_.

Under the short amount of text, there was several photographs. Us lying asleep next to each other, making breakfast, walking to work... the world spun as I stumbled backwards, tripping over a stray bottle and landing right on my ass, Thomas' phone once again being sent to the floor. My breath hitched in my throat, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't breathe, I was being engulfed by panic, my vision was beginning to go black at the edges-

Suddenly, Washington's fuzzy face was in front of me. He was saying something, his lips were moving but I couldn't work out what, the world suddenly on mute. My chest was tight and oxygen didn't seem to be making its way to my lungs no matter how much I gasped like a dying fish.

"Breathe, Jemmy!" Thomas screamed out of the blue; I looked over to see him sobbing, his cheeks wet and glistening. Mentally slapping myself, I tried to get my breathing under control. 5 in, 5 out, that's it...

"I didn't authorise this to be published," Hamilton's voice drifted into my ear. He sounded oddly mad. "I've never seen this before in my life, because the reporter knows they would've got fired if I had. See? No name, the coward."

I took a few deep breaths, struggling to stay strong before bursting into tears like a big old baby.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

James began crying his heart out, great shuddering sobs that seemed to take every ounce of much-needed air out his body. Sniffing hard, I crawled over to him and took him in my arms, letting him bury his face in my shoulder.

"Shh, baby," I murmured in his ear, but my voice was shaking so hard that it probably did more harm than good.

"What are we gonna do?" he managed to bawl, his grip on my shoulder tightening. The dull throb in my leg had now turning into a sharp stab, and I winced a little, rubbing his back. Washington was talking angrily on his phone to someone.

"I've took it down," Hamilton announced, holding up his own phone. "But over 200,000 people saw it before I had chance to."

What were we going to do?


	16. Chapter 15

_Madison's p.o.v_

It must've been almost half an hour before I sat back up, drying my red, puffy eyes. Thomas didn't look much better, as tears were still pooling his eyes as he looked uselessly at me.

"What are we going to do?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head sadly at me, his bottom lip trembling.

"I can't trace it back!" Hamilton yelled suddenly, sounding extremely frustrated and making me jump. "I can't find the damn reporter! Whoever did this did a professional job of it."

Washington regarded us with despair, his fingers flying across the keyboard on his phone like lightening. We snuggled into each other, determined to stay strong for each other.

"I'll have the FBI trace it back. This is serious," the President told us, crouching down to face us. "Do you know anyone who would want to do anything to you?"

We both began to deny it, but then we both froze and turned to each other.

"The woman at the water park," we said in unison. Washington cocked his head, confused, his eyebrows doing the... thing.

"We went to a water park for a first date a week or two ago," Thomas explained. "There was this horribly homophobic woman with her kid who had a go at us."

"She probably recognised us!" I cried. "Found our address, took as many pictures as she could and gave them to the New York Post. Bribed the reporter, perhaps?"

I smiled brokenly, overjoyed that the article was down and we thought we knew the suspect. Hamilton and Washington bid us farewell, vowing to find this woman.

Turning back to my boyfriend, I saw him grinning his head off, his phone held out.

"It's Mama Jefferson."

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Gleefully, I answered the phone as Mads sat excitedly next to me, putting her on speakerphone.

"Hello, Mama," I said, laughter already creeping into my voice.

"Tommy!" she exclaimed happily. "Are you doing the Madison boy yet?"

I laughed as James spluttered and choked on the water he had just gulped.

"Ma..." I choked out.

"Don't worry, I saw the article," she replied dismissively. "I'm happy for you two, all this stand down bullshit is ridiculous. Is James there? I wanna talk to him."

"You're on speaker, Mama."

"Hey," James said awkwardly, wiping the water off his chin with his now damp polo. "How are you, Mrs Jefferson?"

"Call me Jane, love," she replied warmly, and I could imagine her smiling. "You're family now."

James' face split into a huge grin and he hugged me tightly. I barely moved for fear of angering my horribly sore leg.

"Thanks," James said gratefully.

"Tom, how's your leg?" she asked abruptly. "Holding up okay?"

"It's fine, Ma," I lied. I didn't want to worry her. "How are you? How's Dad?"

"He's just fine, baby," she answered, suddenly gasping. "Oh, James, Eleanor says to call her when you get a chance! Oo, I'll go and get her!"

"Ma-" I tried to say, but I could hear her rushing outside and to the Madison's next door. I dropped my face into my hands, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"James, honey!" Eleanor Madison's voice suddenly came. She sounded worried. "I read the article, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Mum, really," he said, wrapping his hand in mine. "The President is sorting it out, he came over last night with a couple others-"

"YOU HAD A PARTY WITH THE PRESIDENT!?"

Eleanor's voice was high and hysteric, but not in a bad way. I don't think I'd ever heard her so excited, and that's including when James got into Princeton. "JANE, THEY HAD A PARTY WITH THE PRESIDENT!"

"Aw, baby, that's great!" Ma said, back on the phone now. "Look, what I wanted to say was that I'm coming to stay with you in New York next week."

"You are?" I squeaked as Mads' jaw dropped open.

"Yes," she said slowly, as if I were stupid. "You'll need to pick me up from the airport at 3 a week tomorrow, is that okay, baby?"

"It's a bit sudden, Mama..." I protested weakly, but I felt so guilty that I soon folded. "Okay, we'll pick you up then."

"Good boy," she replied. "See you then, baby."

And she was gone! James was giggling softly to himself, his shoulders shaking a little.

"She's a crackpot, your mum," he chuckled, hugging me softly.

"So's yours!" I answered, shifting a little and crying out in pain as my leg gave an angry shout. He looked at me worriedly.

"I'll go get your meds," he said, stroking my hair off my forehead. "That damn floor couldn't have helped."

He pottered around the kitchen, and I couldn't help but give a small smile at the domesticity **(A/N: is that even a word?)** of the situation. "So how long has your mum been shipping us?" he asked conversationally.

"Pretty much since we were born," I replied, laughing. He was back again now, my meds in his hand. Passing a couple of pills to me, he gently kissed my hand as I swallowed them, sighing with relief as my leg soon became pleasantly numb.

"You know we're gonna have to go out at some point," he said quietly, making me freeze.

"I know," I mumbled, looking at the floor. "Doesn't mean I actually want to."

Kissing me softly, he nodded his head in agreement, resting his forehead on mine. He flexed his muscles jokingly.

"We must be strong, _monsieur,_ " he said, and I engulfed him in a hug, holding him as close as I could.


	17. Chapter 16

_1 and half weeks later-_ _Jefferson's p.o.v_

There was no escaping it. It was enivitable, really. The last week or so, me and James had stayed inside, working from home on our work laptops and eating takeout after we'd run out of ready meals dinners. Most fast food chains refused to serve us, and even those that did seemed to send the most homophobic delivery guys, who sneered at us when we opened the door.

We had to leave to pick Mama Jefferson up, though. I could tell James was nervous as I watched him tug down the sleeve of his hoodie, a nervous little twitch of his which he hated.

"It'll be fine," I told him as I hugged him from behind, my chin resting on the top of his head. He chuckled in an anxious manner and wrapped his arms around mine.

"I suppose we better go if we want to be there for 3," he said, kissing my hand before shoving me off of him. I yelled in mock anger and chased him around the room and out into the car, him laughing all the way. I smiled softly at my man's happiness, which had been far too frequent in the past week. We got into the car, giggling. "You are an idiot, Thomas Jefferson."

"Yes, but I'm your idiot," I shot back. "Foreeeevvvveeeerrr!!"

He looked at me curiously as I started the car and pulled out, ignoring the strange looks. It was incredibly hot (a heatwave had come) so I rolled down the window, trying to ignore the stares.

"You really think we'll be together forever?" he asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"I mean, I think so," I answered, starting to fret a little. "Only if you want to, though. Never feel any obligation to stay with me because you're worried about our friendship or something if we broke up. I'll always be your best friend, no matter what. You know that, right?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod shakily.

"I'd like to be with you forever," he said quietly, and I smiled to myself as I turned onto the highway, heading towards JFK.

"Looking forward to my mum coming?" I said, quickly changing the subject. "Maybe if you're lucky, she'll bring yours as well!"

He groaned, but stayed smiling, his forehead resting on the boiling glass of the window. I glanced momentarily at him before fixing my gaze back on the road ahead.

"I love my mother, but Jesus Christ, I couldn't deal with her on her own for a week, let alone with your mum," he replied. "I don't know how you do it, Thomas."

"Our mum's are mental together," I agreed.

"Absolutely batty."

"Remember when your mum took me home once because we spent so much time together and she didn't even notice until she called me Tom and I corrected her?"

"Remember when your mum caught us sneaking back in when we were in high school and just winked at us?"

We laughed together, but it was cut off when someone outside shouted

"FAGS!"

James whimpered, and I stuck my head out of the window, glaring at the idiot. He was a fat man, and he had his t-shirt off in the heat, his great fat gut hanging over the rim of his shorts. I opened my mouth to yell something back at him, but James put a warning hand on my shoulder like he did in cabinet meetings and I ducked my head back into the car.

"Sorry," I said, embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it," he answered. "Look, we're here now."

I looked up, and we were indeed pulling into JFK. I parked in the short-stay car park, paid, James grabbed the handmade sign, and we headed inside.

It was incredibly busy, and everyone seemed to stare at us as we hurried to the pick-up area, James clutching the sign. He was squeezing my hand so hard I thought he was going to crush it. I leant a little more than usual. The stress of going out had somehow channeled itself into pain. Lots and lots of pain. I'd had 2 bad pain days in the last week. What is this world we live in, where people are too scared to even leave the house?

Anyway, we were only standing there for 5 minutes before something was announced over the intercom.

_Flight 1789 from Virginia now coming down to pick-up._

I looked excitedly to the escalator, and James held up the sign with a cheesy grin on his face as if he were a kid again. People poured down the escalator, but it wasn't long before I saw my mother, my face splitting into a huge grin.

"Tommy!" she squealed, running down the escalator with her huge suitcase and attacking me in a hug, squeezing me so hard that I thought I was going to choke. My leg almost gave way under her weight.

"Hey, Mama," I said warmly, patting her on the back. She leant back, regarding me with a keen interest.

"You're too thin, you are," she scolded, giving my stomach a light slap. She then turned to James, hugging him in turn. "James, dear, it's so nice to see you again! Is Tom behaving?"

I facepalmed as James giggled adorably.

"He's fine," he answered simply, wrapping his arm around my waist. "He's just fine."

She leant forward to me.

"Is your leg okay?" she whispered in my ear. I felt my face flush.

"Bit sorer than normal, but it's not too bad," I lied for her sake. She linked her arm with mine, and we went back to the car.

"I'll drive," she announced once James had loaded her cases in the back. "Tommy, you can go in the back."

"But _muuuUUuuuuuUuum_ ," I groaned.

"No arguing," she said sternly. "You need to lie down, take some weight of that damn leg of yours."

I looked at James for support, but he shrugged apologetically at me, and got in the front. Grumpily, I got in the back, lying across the seats. Admittedly, my leg felt so much better, but I wasn't going to admit that, was I? I knew I was clutching my leg, and I could feel my mother glancing at me as she pulled out of the car park. I could feel a spasm coming, and I just hoped we could get home and in the privacy of mine and James' bedroom before it started, which was in about 10 minutes. I didn't need my mother seeing that. I tapped twice on the side of the door, a seemingly nonchalant movement, but I saw James tense. That was our signal, and it was used if we were in a meeting or something, so he could get everyone out before anything happened.

"H-how far away are we from the apartment?" he asked, his tone ever so polite. My mother gave him a strange look. 7 minutes 35 seconds.

"About 5 minutes I think, why?" she replied.

"Oh, erm, just wondering."

He was stumbling over his words a little, which was unlike him. Suddenly, we jolted to a halt, and my mother let out a very colourful string of expletives.

"Bloody traffic!" she yelled before swearing some more. I couldn't help but giggle. 5 minutes 48 seconds.

"It's awful, isn't it?" James agreed. I could hear the fear in his voice. "We're only 5 minutes away as well."

We sat completely motionless for a couple of minutes.

Turns out my estimate was off, because then the pain struck.

_Madison's p.o.v_

There was a blood-curdling scream from the backseat, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I turned quickly around to look at Thomas. He was panting, sweat pouring down his face in the sweltering heat. His hand was clamped on his leg so hard his knuckles were turning white.

"We need to pull over!" I shouted to his mother, trying to comfort him from my weirdly twisted position in the front. She nodded, putting her foot down as she swerved out of the traffic, speeding towards a nearby layby. "How do you drive so fast?" I asked, slightly impressed.

"When our Lizzy was born, her dad was away and I had to drive myself to the hospital," she replied as we pulled into the layby. I jumped out, wrenching the back door and helping Thomas sit up, letting him slide into my lap. He was sobbing; this was his third episode in the last week alone.

His mother joined us in the back seat after she had shut off the engine. She stroked his hair soothingly, letting him bury his face in her shoulder.

"It's okay, Mama's here," she whispered in his ear. I could feel him trembling on my legs, and I could hear him sobbing, his breath coming in little gasps.

"It hurts, Mama!" he wailed suddenly. "It hurts so much!"

"I know, baby," she soothed, but he wasn't calming down, just working himself into more of a frenzy. Fumbling in my pocket, I was dismayed not to find his pills. Then it struck me. The glove box! He always kept some in there just in case! Diving into the front of the car, I pretty much stuck my head into the glove box as I searched for the bottle. I soon found it, pulling it out triumphantly and shaking a couple into the palm of my hand. I climbed back into the crowded back seat.

"Thomas, you're gonna have to sit up," I said gently. "I can't risk you choking on the pills."

Shakily, he pulled himself up, using his mother for support. I tipped the pills into his mouth: he swallowed them dry, slumping again. He looked so pitifully tired.

"Just go to sleep," Jane murmured softly, and soon after, his eyes slid shut and he was asleep.

"I'll stay in the back with him," I said, feeling embarrassed. "I can't drive, you see."

She smiled kindly at me, heading to the driver's seat and pulling out onto the now clear road.

I didn't bother putting a seatbelt on. Illegal, I know. Hey, we were only going up the road! We pulled up outside the apartment, and I struggled to pick Thomas' lanky frame up: he looks skinny, but he weighs a ton!

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Hey!

_Madison's p.o.v_

Sorry, babe. Anyway, I finally picked him up, and we stole away into the house.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on crack

_Madison's p.o.v_

I hauled Thomas into our room, setting him down lightly on the bed. He didn't even stir, just snuffled into the pillows. I gazed at him sadly for a few seconds before heading back into the front room, where Jane was sitting, chewing her fingernails.

"I haven't seen him like that since he was 14," she told me, her voice trembling. I nodded in sympathy, walking over to the kitchen. I knew for a fact that Thomas had had way more since he was 14, but he hid them well from her.

"Do you want tea? Coffee?" I asked.

"Coffee, please," she replied, joining me in the kitchen. "Black, 2 sugars, if you have it."

She kept glancing towards the bedroom, and I placed a gentle hand on her arm. She jumped a little, turning to me with wide eyes.

"He won't be awake till later," I said softly and as kindly as I could. "Stop fretting."

She gave me a small, sad smile, taking the steaming cup I handed her and sipping at it.

"Does he get like that a lot?" she asked faintly.

"It gets worse if there's a certain degree of stress," I reasoned. "It's not too often normally, but it's been quite bad the past week."

Putting her cup on the side and burying her face in her hands, I think she was sobbing quietly. I wasn't really sure what to do, so I simply stood there awkwardly.

"All because he fell out a damn tree," she said, anger apparent in her voice as she looked up at me. I nodded again, biting my lip. We sat in silence on the sofa, the only sound in the apartment being our breathing, Thomas' soft snores and a repeat of Ellen playing on the TV.

"Can I just ask something?" she said suddenly. I shrugged in indifference, already knowing the question. "What's the deal with the bed in the hallway?"

"That would be your ridiculous son," I answered, chuckling. She laughed as well, and the tension between us eased considerably. "I love him, but Jesus Christ, his common sense just flies out the window sometimes."

"You can tell me that," she replied. "He once woke the entire house up trying to make mac and cheese once because he burnt it and the smoke detector went off."

I shook my head, laughing. We were so absorbed in talking that we hadn't realised that Thomas had woken up, and was lounging in the doorway.

"In my defence, I was only 9," he drawled. We both whipped round to see him shirtless, leaning on the door frame. I felt my face flush as I looked at the floor.

"And you haven't got a shirt on because?" Jane asked, standing up with her arms crossed. She looked seriously pissed.

"It's hot," he replied simply.

"You're making it hot," I mumbled in what I thought was an inaudible voice, but Thomas heard and had to stifle a giggle. Jane raised an eyebrow.

"You think this is funny?" she asked.

"Umm..." he stumbled over his words for a moment before shooting back into the bedroom and emerging with a magenta vest on. "Happy?"

"Much better," she said, before pulling him over to the couch and proceeding to question us on every aspect of our relationship. And I mean _every_ aspect.

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Yeah, it was pretty extensive. After the question session was over and James was sufficiently red, I approached the issue of tomorrow.

"Look, Mama, we gotta go back into work tomorrow," I said nervously. "I mean, you can stay here if you want to, but if you wanna come, the President's gonna be there, so if you-"

"I'll come," she said quickly. "I get to meet the goddamn President! Ooh, I must call Eleanor!"

And she rushed off to my bedroom/office, sliding effortlessly over the bed! Me and James exchanged a strange look before bursting out into giggles.

"Mental," we said in unison.

"I think she has a bit of a thing for the President," James added, sending me into a whole new fit of giggles.

"Doesn't she just?" I said, pulling him closer to me. He snuggled into me, and for once, everything seemed to be okay.

888888

The next morning, James and I, inevitably, woke up late.

I opened my eyes slowly, trying to break through the thick crust of sleep that glued my eyelashes together. Hearing the birds chirping and seeing the sun filter through the curtains, it was like something out of a disney movie. That is, until I saw the alarm clock.

"JAMES, WE'RE FUCKING LATE!!!!" I screeched, shaking him violently. He shot up, looking around wildly before seeing me and slapping me round the face.

"What the hell was that for!?" he yelled as I rubbed the faint handprint on my face. Then he looked at the clock and jumped up. "HOW IS IS 11 O'CLOCK!?!?!?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" I howled, getting up off the bed and using the wall for support as we ran/hobbled into the kitchen. James poured out a cup of coffee for me, sliding it towards me before running over to the bed in the hallway where my mother was supposed to be.

She wasn't there.

"WE'VE LOST YOUR MOTHER!" James shouted to me. I dropped my coffee on my feet.

"Shit!" I screamed, jumping as best I could from one foot to the other in an attempt to shake the scalding liquid off of my skin. James rushed over and lead me to the bathroom, dousing them in cold water. "I broke the mug, but more pressingly, where on God's good earth is my mother?"

James hurried to our room, returning soon after with my phone. I quickly dialled her number. She picked up almost immediately.

"Where are you!?" I yelled down the phone.

"I'm at Central Park, darling," she answered calmly. "I woke up at 8, and thought I'd have a nice wander around New York."

"You don't just _wander_ around New York!" I replied heatedly. "For God's sake, Ma, just get back here. James and I were supposed to be at work an hour ago!"

She tutted.

"I'll be back in 10 minutes," she said. "Be ready to go."

She was gone. I threw my phone across the room in fustration, my feet and leg throbbing in pain. In a grump, I flounced off to our room, slamming the door loudly as I proceeded to get angry-dressed.

"Why are you being mardy with me?" James called through the door. I didn't grace him with an answer. **(A/N: Jesus, it just occured to me how bitchy Thomas is being. He is a** ** _mythic bitch_** **)** "C'mon, Tom, you're better than this."

"God, shut up!" I shouted back, huffing. "Just leave me alone!"

"No," he replied. I was surprised at how hard his voice was. "My boyfriend is sad and I'm going to make him happy again."

A warm stirred in my heart, and as I pulled my purple hoodie over my head, I threw the door open.

"Sorry," I mumbled as he enveloped me in a hug.

"You're on your man-period or something," he said into my chest. "You were being a bitch, man."

I made an indignant noise, shoving him good-naturedly towards the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

"As much as it pains me to say it," I said. "Put some clothes on."

I heard his muffled laugh, and smiled, making my way to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen and pulling out my painkillers, popping a couple. I swallowed them with a gulp of water from the tap. Little did I know that as I stuck my head under the tap, my mother walked in.

"You shouldn't do that," she said, startling me. I went to look up, but hit my head on the tap and groaned in pain, glaring at her.

"Ma," I groaned.

"Why is there a broken mug and coffee all over the floor?" she asked, pointing to the mess.

"Cos I dropped my coffee when I found out you were missing. You owe me a mug."

She laughed as James came out of the bedroom, dressed in a suit. He looked sexy as _fuuuck_.

"Put a suit on," James said to me. I shook my head.

"Hurts my leg," I complained.

"And those jeans don't?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow. Admitting defeat, I trailed back to the bedroom and changed into a navy blue suit jacket, grey waistcoat, almost black but still blue shirt and crazy-ass bow tie. I grabbed a pair of black jeans as a compromise. At least it looked semi-professional.

"Better?" I asked as I came out, grabbing my glasses from on top of the bookcase.

"Better," he comfirmed, glancing momentarily at the jeans. "Shall we go?"

I nodded, and we headed off.

888888

_Madison's p.o.v_

We arrived at the government building just after 12. Thomas kept fiddling with the button on his suit jacket, to the point where I had to slap his hand away to stop him from breaking the button off. He settled for chewing on his nails instead, which his mother slapped his hand for.

Washington was waiting for us in the lobby, one bushy eyebrow raised. I rushed to apologise, talking faster than I think I ever had before. He held up a hand to silence me.

"Don't worry about it," he said warmly. Turning to Jane, he took her hand and shook it firmly. "I'm guessing you must be Thomas' mother. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Jane replied gracefully. I could hear the hint of excitement in her voice.

"Jefferson, Madison, you have a cabinet meeting in 10 minutes," Washington said, turning to the use two. Thomas groaned. "And Jefferson?" Thomas turned to him. "Try to take it easy on Hamilton, his son's ill and he's very stressed."

I felt a pang of sympathy towards the immigrant, pulling the other two towards the cabinet room.

Hamilton was already there, typing away furiously on his laptop and checking his phone obsessively every few seconds. Thomas strolled over to him, and I noticed that his gait was lopsided- well, more lopsided than usual.

"Sorry about your kid," he said as Hamilton looked up, irritated, at him. Alexander's face softened. "Wish him get well soon from me and Mads, yeah?"

"I will," Alexander said faintly. He sauntered back over to our desk, sitting down heavily.

"I need you to hide something from my mother," he said to me. Jane had left to go to the bathroom. I was immediately alarmed.

"What? You're not sick?" I rambled. "You're not dying, are you?" He gave me a look. "Oh God, you are, you're dying, oh God, what is it? Cancer? I bet it's cancer..."

"I'm not dying," he told me, placing a hand on each of my shoulders. "I... I just think there might be something wrong with my leg. I might need to go get it checked out."

Reassured a little, I nodded. At that moment, Jane came back, Washington came to his balcony and proceedings begun.

It went perfectly normally, that is, until it came to Thomas' first insult to Hamilton. It wasn't as personal as normal, just saying his ideas were stupid, but his mother did not seem impressed. She stood up, striding over to him and tweaking his ear. He gave a sharp squeal and looked at her in bewilderment.

"You do _not_ speak to people like that, Thomas Jefferson!" she scolded. Thomas looked like he wanted to sink through the floor as the rest of the cabinet suppressed giggles. "Did I not raise you with manners? Apologise. Now."

"Ma..." he said, but one smouldering look from her was enough to stop any complaints. "Sorry, Hamiltr-ton."

Hamilton wasn't even paying attention, just nodded vaguely in his general direction, typing on his phone. Thomas finished his speech in subdued tones, moping back to his seat and sliding as far down as he could go.

"Hamilton, your response?" Washington asked, grinning.

Hamilton stood up and strode to the centre of the room, beginning his rant. It was fairly long, but pretty soon he got to his first insult. Something to do with his hair, I think, but the events that transpired afterwards were nothing short of incredible.

Thomas, of course, wasn't listening, too absorbed in his own embarrassment, but Jane was and heard this. She looked angrier than ever, and marched right up to Hamilton. She was slightly shorter than him, but he cowered, looking terrified. The cabinet sat on edge, ready for the first bite.

"What did you say about my Tommy?" she growled.

"N-nothing, ma'am," he replied, and I could see him shaking in fear.

"No, repeat it!" she said forcefully, and Hamilton did so meekly. "Watch yourself, mister."

She stalked back to the desk. "No wonder this country is going to the dogs," she muttered.

I choked on my water.

888888

"It could've been worse," I mused as we lay in bed together that night.

"It really couldn't," Thomas groaned. I grinned at him, yawning. Reaching over, I clicked off the light.

"Night, Tom. Love you."

"Love you too, babe."


	19. Chapter 18

_2 weeks later-_ _Jefferson's p.o.v_

I should've known it was too good to last.

True, me and James love each other completely and would never willingly do anything to harm each other, be it mentally or physically, but we're only human, after all. We still fight.

Our first fight was not a pretty one. To be fair to us, we lasted a lot longer than other couples, about 3 or 4 months, but there came a point were it just all went wrong. Over something so stupid as well...

I'm just gonna admit it now, it was my fault. I'd been being a little lazy, falling back into old habits. Okay... it was over the clothes hamper. Stupid, eh? Well, I always just throw my clothes in the general direction of the basket, and if it goes in, win! If it doesn't? Meh, I'll get round to it. I'd been doing this for as long as I can remember, but Mads is so tidy and organised that I was trying to kick the habit. It wasn't working very well.

I was lying in bed when he came in. He'd had to work late to finish a report for Washington, so I'd kissed him on the cheek and headed home, utterly exhausted. I had flopped in my old bed, still fully-dressed, and fallen straight to sleep with half of my body hanging off onto the floor! I was pretty stiff when I woke up.

Talking of waking up, I woke up when the door slammed. I jumped up, yelling incoherently, falling back on the bed. Go useless leg! I saw James stalk in, muttering furiously to himself. I could tell he was pissed. He didn't even look at me, just went into the bedroom and slammed _that_ door. I tensed as I remembered that I hadn't picked up the clothes. Oops.

"THOMAS FUCKING JEFFERSON!" he screamed, storming in. He was breathing heavily, and I cowered. "Why is there clothes on the floor?"

"Don't know," I mumbled, looking at the floor.

"Do you see that wicker box about 3 1/2-feet tall, right there next to the wall? It’s kind of tan, has a hinged lid… It looks a little bit like a receptacle of some kind." he said, his tone thunderous. I nodded meekly. "I know it may not have occurred to you to wonder what that contraption is or what it’s for, but we use that to collect the dirty clothes so that they aren’t strewn across the floor." I was beginning to get angry now, and stood up again, grasping the bedpost for support. "And yet the dirty socks and wet towels are magically still strewn about the floor, right next to the hamper!"

"It's just a couple of socks and a t-shirt!" I yelled back, finally exploding.

"And a damp towel, and a pair of jeans and about 10 million assorted fucking magenta objects!" he shot back.

"Keep your hair on!" I shouted. "I was gonna pick them up later, but if you didn't notice, when you came in having a bloody hissy fit, I was asleep! A-sleeeeeeep! Would you like me to spell it out for you? A-S-L--"

"Oh shut up!" he cut me off. "Don't make yourself the bigger person here! And whilst we're on the subject, don't put your disgusting mustard knife in the fucking mayo! It's not that hard!"

"Sorry that I wanted mustard _and_ mayo in my sandwich and my leg hurt too fucking much to walk over to the sink!" I screamed.

"Oh, don't do that!" he scoffed. I glared at him.

"Do what?"

"Pull the disability card!" he yelled back. I was taken aback. "It's two steps, I'm sure you can manage that!"

"You try having this bloody thing!" I said, trying to sound threatening as I gestured to my leg. It didn't work, as my voice was trembling, thick with tears. "Oh, and whilst we're talking about it, turn down the damn thermostat. I don't want to sleep in a sauna, thank you!"

"It's 80F!" he shrieked. "It's not that hot!"

"It is for me!"

"Then turn it down yourself! Or is that too much as well?"

Unable to hold myself up any more, I dropped back into a sitting position, tears welling in my eyes. James laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head.

"I'm going," he muttered, turning on his heel and slamming the front door behind him.

I broke down in tears, curling up into a sad little sushi roll on the bed. Did he really think that little of me? Unsure of how to deal with it, I grabbed my phone and texted Laf.

**TJeffs: Can u come over?**

**TheFrenchBaguette: Sure, why?**

**TJeffs: Me and James had a fight...**

**TheFrenchBaguette: I'll be right over. I'll bring ice cream and Disney movies**.

I rubbed my eyes, managing to keep the tears under control. Pulling off my crumpled clothes, I slipped into a random onesie, not even being able to face the clothes basket. What a stupid thing to fight about! I lay in a star shape on my silk sheets for about 10 minutes before there was a knock at the door. Laf. Pulling myself up, I shuffled over to the door and opened it, which revealed Laf and Hercules standing there, brandishing Ben and Jerry's Phish Food **(A/N: I will literally fight anyone on this, Phish Food is the best flavour and you all know it)** and Moana on Blu-Ray. The sight of Hercules, basically a taller James, set me off crying again.

Laf swept me into a hug, mumbling French comfort in ear and leading me to the couch, forcing the tub into my hand and fetching me a spoon. I ate a spoonful, tasting the chocolatly goodness. Instantly, I felt a little better. Herc hung anxiously by the door.

"Laf, I'm gonna just head out for half an hour," he said, his voice just as deep and rich as James'. I focused on the ice cream, the taste, the smell, the silky texture.

"Okay, _mon amour,_ [my love,]" Laf said, waving him off. The door closed, and I started blubbing like a baby again. "What is wrong, _mon ami_?" Laf asked, alarmed as he sat next to me.

"I-it's just, you a-an-and Herc seem t-to have such a-an awes-some rel- _hic_ -ationship," I wailed. "W-why can't m-me and James h-have that?"

Laf chuckled, placing an arm round my shoulder.

"Me and 'Erc fight," he replied. "The first time we fought, it was about the washing up. We didn't speak for nearly a week."

My jaw dropped open in shock.

"I don't wanna go a week," I mumbled.

"You won't," Laf said. "What did you fight about anyway?"

I told him everything.

"It all seems a bit, 'ow you say, silly," he told me. "'E'll come to his senses. How about Moana, _non_?"

I sniffled and nodded, grabbing a blanket and the now partially melted ice cream.

I prayed to God it wouldn't be a week.


	20. Chapter 19

_Madison's p.o.v_

Okay, so I probably shouldn't have said half the stuff I said. So sue me. It's over. I said it. It's done. It's not like I believe any of it, anyway. I was just tired and pissed and... you know what, I don't even know.

I flounced down the street, muttering furiously under my breath, cursing this and that. As much as I tried to shake it, the sight of Thomas' glistening eyes and his crushed face stayed fixed in my mind, as if to jeer at me _look what you've done, you heartless bastard_. I felt guilty. Incredibly guilty. It was just hidden somewhere under all the anger.

I didn't go to Abingdon Square. Too obvious. Instead, I went to the nearest Starbucks, a small corner branch that was pretty much empty. It was after 9 o'clock at night, after all. No-one would find me here.

The cashier was a college student, a 19-or-so year-old girl who was slumped over the counter, looking exhausted and completely done with life. I shook myself and walked, albeit a little nervously, over to the counter. Some of the indignant air that surrounded me dissipated.

"One small iced tea, please," I said politely, pushing a 5 over the counter. Manners cost nothing, people! "Keep the change as a tip."

The girl looked at the 5 dollar bill, up at me and then back down at the money, a huge grin on her face. There. Maybe I'd done something to clear my awful, awful sins.

"Name?" the girl asked sweetly, flicking her long ponytail.

"James, thanks."

She scribbled this down on the cup and motioned over to the empty waiting area. I shuffled over, and pulled my phone for something to do. It was exploding with messages from my cousin Hercules.

**HERCULESMULLIGAN: Where tf r u**

**HERCULESMULLIGAN: I swear I will hunt you down**

**HERCULESMULLIGAN: Answer me James Madison Jr or I will call your mother**

And that's just a few. Horrified by the last threat, I called him in confusion. He picked up almost straight away.

"Where the bloody hell are you, and what the bloody hell did you do?" he demanded angrily, so loud that I had to hold the phone away from my ear a little. A bit like they do in the movies.

"W-what?" I squeaked, terrified. The girl gave a strange look as the blender began to whir.

"To Thomas!" he replied, irritated.

"To Thomas?"

"He was crying!"

I felt even more guilty, if that was possible.

"We had an argument," was my only explanation.

"He was wearing a Care Bear onesie."

I felt my face blanch.

"Not the Care Bare onesie," I said, my tone hushed. Tears came to my eyes, and a lump formed in my throat. The blender stopped abruptly. "I-I'm at the Starbucks on the corner of 96th Street."

He ended the call.

I swallowed with difficulty, trying to get rid of the thick lump in my throat. It didn't work. The girl called my name, leaning on the counter as I came slowly forward.

"Relationship troubles?"

The voice was oddly familiar, and when I looked up, I was surprised to see Maria Reynolds. You know, from the party. I'd been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I hadn't realised.

"Maria, hi!" I exclaimed, taking my iced tea from her and taking a sip. It was cool and refreshing, but did nothing to the lump. "And... um, yes."

"What did you do?" she asked critically, raising an eyebrow. I squirmed before pouring my heart out and telling her everything.

"Well, first off," she began before slapping me, hard, round the face. I looked back at her in surprise, one hand on my burning cheek. "You're a dick. And a douchebag. You do not, and I repeat _do not_ bring Thomas' disability into an argument. No questions asked."

I nodded fervently. " _But_ ," she continued. "You do seem genuinely sorry. I used to date this dirtbag James Reynolds- same last name but not related, mind. You know him?"

I nodded again. Everyone knew Reynolds. Dirtbag extraordinaire and dickhead 101.

"Why did you-" I started, but she cut me off.

"Not important. Anyway, whenever we had an argument or broke up, he'd always show up at my door in a tux with a bunch of red roses and a present. He'd beg my forgiveness, promised he'd change, and I, like an ass, always forgave him. Not anymore, though."

She seemed lost in thought for a moment before shaking herself back to reality. I gave her a small smile and a gesture of thanks. I was about to leave before Herc stormed in and slapped me on the same cheek as Maria had, only about 10 times as hard. I was almost sent to the ground as I squealed in pain.

"You are an idiot," Herc hissed, helping me up. "You okay? I didn't mean to slap you quite so hard."

"I'm fine," I whispered, my voice trembling as tears formed in my eyes, a few falling. Herc took pity on me and gave me a quick hug.

"Did you mean any of it?" he asked quietly yet seriously.

"O-of course not," I stammered, drying my eyes. "But I have a plan for forgiveness."

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

**A/N MOANA SPOILERS**

Moana is quite possibly the best Disney movie ever. Don't agree? Then get out. Go on! Just walk out the door and book yourself into a home, because you're clearly delusional.

We weren't very far into the movie. We had just got to _You're Welcome_ , where Maui proves himself to be a total ass.

"See, _only_ The Rock could get away with this song!" I exclaimed through a mouthful of popcorn to Laf, who nodded thoughtfully. We'd found some snacks in the cupboard, and were slowly working our way through 2 bags of Sweet 'n' Salty popcorn, a half-empty tube of prawn cocktail Pringles, some partially melted Hershey's kisses and 3 boiled eggs (because Laf is weird and wanted boiled eggs). Oh yeah, and the last milky remnants of the ice cream. Of course, thoughts of James were still rife, but I was pushing them to the back of my mind for now.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Confused, I paused the movie and glanced at Laf, who simply shrugged. Intrigued and a little scared, I cautiously opened the door to a shock.

James was standing there in all his small glory, dressed in a fancy-ass tuxedo and meticulously polished black leather shoes. He was clutching a bunch of red roses, and carrying a shiny magenta package. From somewhere, tinny romance music was playing. I felt tears come to my eyes as Laf came to the doorway, chuckling softly to himself.

"Thomas Jefferson," James said. His voice was more confident than I think I'd ever heard it. "I love you, I really do, and I didn't mean any of the stuff I said. I'm so sorry, and I just- _oof!"_

That last bit was when I tackled him in a hug, holding his head close to my chest just like I used to do with my younger siblings.

"Of course I forgive you," I murmured in his ear. He giggled, leaning back.

"I think we crushed the roses."

Indeed we had. The smashed petals were floating slowly to the ground, creating an aura of romance as we laughed quietly together. James brought out the magenta package, holding it out to me bashfully. I tried to give it back, insisting that it was too much, but he shoved it into my hands and insisted that nothing would ever be enough.

I carefully peeled back the slippery wrapping paper to reveal a small ring box. Heart fluttering, I snapped it open to reveal a small ring. On the top, it was a matte black, but as I turned it over, I saw that it was a shiny deep purple on the inside. I hugged him again.

"I love it," I whispered, slipping it on. "Almost as much as I love you."

He giggled again as I kissed the tip of his nose.

"Look, I've only got this tux for another 10 minutes," he said, tugging at the black sleeve. "Herc knows the owner, Usnavi, and he said I could have it free for an hour, but-"

"Let's go," I cut in, taking his hand and pulling him out into the street. We probably looked a right pair, but we were happy, and I think that that's finally enough.


	21. Chapter 20

_Jefferson's p.o.v_

Okay, so, where were we? Huh? Oh, right, after the fight. I suppose the only interesting thing that happened after that was my small trip to hospital.

Don't worry, I wasn't ill or dying or anything horrible. Remember back to when my mother was here and I said I'd have to get an appointment for my leg? Well, I'd finally got round to getting one. Okay, that's a complete and utter lie. James got fed up and anxious with me having even more bad pain days and called for me. I was to go to New York General on June 1st for a checkup.

Well, when June 1st finally rolled around, I was tired, pissed and incredibly resistant about going.

"I don't wanna go!" I growled to James. I was hidden under the bedcovers, and he was standing over me; I could see his silhouette blocking the light, shrouding me in darkness. Part-darkness, anyway. "I don't need to go, I'm just wasting their time."

"You're going to this appointment!" he exclaimed. "You may not think it's a problem, but everyone else does! Even Hamilton asked me if you were okay the other day! Said you looked pale and tired. It's having an affect on you whether you like it or not."

I felt my face drain. If Hamiltrash was asking about me, it must be bad. Reluctantly, I slithered out of bed, glaring at James. He gave me a small smile in return as I flounced to the coffee pot.

"It's all for the best," he murmured, wrapping his arms around me from behind. Despite myself, I smiled a little.

"I know," I replied quietly. "I just don't want someone poking and prodding me like I'm some floppy dummy who can be experimented on!"

My voice had risen to a shout, and I slammed my fist onto the kitchen worktop. James jumped at least a foot in the air at the loud crash before taking my shaking fist and massaging it gently, uncurling my fingers.

"They won't," he said. "I promise."

I grinned and nodded my head before grabbing my shoes.

"Shall we go?"

James made a noise and steering me towards the bedroom. _Inappropriate_ , I thought. _I'm still up, though._

"Get changed into some normal clothes," he said simply before heading back out to the kitchen. I smirked and began to get changed.

888888

The hospital was relatively quiet. It wasn't the same hospital we'd been at after the accident, though. We walked- well, James walked and I limped- across the lobby towards the reception area. I suppose, in a way, I sort of like hospitals. True, they're freaky clean prisons and they're full of sick people and they hold horrible memories, but at least I can use my cane, or even sometimes crutches if it's really bad, and no-one will judge. You can't judge anyone in a hospital. It's impossible. Maybe internally, sure, but you can't stare or whisper like you would anywhere else. It's something about the social etiquette of hospitals that just doesn't allow it. As soon as you walk into a hospital, your primary emotion is sympathy. No questions asked. It's just- sorry, I'm ranting, aren't I?

Anyway, the man at the reception told us that the place we needed was on the fifth floor. He seemed uncomfortable as he said it, pointing us towards the elevators. I reflected on the irony of the situation. The fifth floor! What were they thinking? What is the elevator was broken? Mental.

The waiting room held a small desk, where a bored-looking nurse sat. 4 people, 2 old ladies and one 7 year-old kid with his mum were sat on the hard green plastic chairs. The mum was flicking idly through a very crumpled copy of _Gardening World,_ and the ladies were knitting. I sat next to the kid, fiddling with some peeling paint on my cane. I really needed to get a new one... James was talking to the receptionist. The kid tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned from watching James' back (more specifically, his ass) to face him.

"What are you here for, Mister?" the kid asked. He had squarish blue glasses, and curly blond-brown hair. His eyes were a deep brown, which revealed that he understood much more than his age let on. He was wearing a dinosaur t-shirt, and baggy khaki trousers with multiple pockets. He was looking me straight in the eyes. It was nice, actually. Most people just ignore my face and focus on the cane.

"Leg," I answered, holding out my hand to him. He took it. His skin was almost translucently white next to mine, and his hands were small. "Thomas Jefferson. You?"

"I have ankylosing spondylitis," he said confidently. "It's a rare form of arthritis, and it's a chronic condition in which the spine and other areas of the body become inflamed. My name's Toby."

"Heya, Toby," I replied.

"I like your hair."

"Thanks. I like your t-shirt."

He smiled proudly, pointing at the dinosaur.

"That's a tyrannosaurus rex," he told me. "I know the names of all the dinosaurs. All of them!"

I nodded approvingly, chuckling a little as James came and sat next to me. "Who's that?" Toby asked.

"This is James," I said.

"Are you two together?" he said loudly. I gaped a little. "'Cause it'd be really cool if you were."

"We are," James said shyly, slipping his hand into mine. Toby smiled.

"Are you gonna get married?"

There was a beat before we both nodded.

"Maybe, in a few years," I responded. "We're good how we are."

"Can I tell you something?" Toby asked. I nodded, and he kneeled up on the chair, cupping his hand around my ear. "I don't really like it here," he said in a soft voice. My heart swelled with sympathy for this poor little boy.

"I don't like it, either," I whispered back. He giggled as he leant back, and at that moment, his mother looked up to see him chatting away to us.

"Toby, leave the poor men alone," she hissed. Toby nodded solemnly, sitting back in the chair. I swear he winked at me. "I'm so sorry, he just talks away sometimes," she said to us, her tone apologetic.

"We don't mind," I said. "He's pretty cool, actually."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked, sounding skeptical. We nodded. She gave Toby a small nod, and his face split into a huge grin as he began to talk again, faster than ever. Before we knew what was happening, it had been half an hour and it was time for Toby's appointment.

"Good luck, kid," I called after him. He waved at me before his mother gently tugged him along and he disappeared down the corridor.

"I didn't know you were so good with kids," James mumbled, wrapping his arm around my waist.

"I have 9 siblings," I answered simply. "You pick stuff up."

It wasn't long, only about 10 minutes before Toby walked back in. He now had a red lollipop in his hand, and waved merrily at me before he and his mother walked out the waiting room. A doctor then came to the door and called my name. I clambered up, my leg stiff after sitting still for so long, and I hissed in pain a little as I put weight on it. The doctor looked alarmed, to tell the truth. He lead us to a small exam room, and told me to sit on the edge of the bed. I did so.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked, clipboard in hand.

"Just a bit of extra pain, that's all," I replied awkwardly. James silently implored me from his position leaning against the wall by the door. "Okay, maybe more than a bit. It's probably nothing, I've just had a stressful couple of months, that's all."

The doctor didn't seem convinced.

"I'm gonna need you to take off your jeans," he said, not even looking up at me as he scribbled on his clipboard. I gaped at him.

"Nope," I proclaimed, hopping up and heading towards the door. I would've left as well, if it wasn't for James pushing me back to the bed.

"It won't be that bad," he whispered in my ear. "I'm sure he's seen a lot worse."

Slowly and unwillingly, I took my jeans off, pulling my t-shirt as far down as it would go. The doctor approached me, and it took all of my self-control for me not to shrink back. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and began gently feeling my thigh, right on the bloody scar. My face must've been a picture, as James was shaking with laughter in the corner. C'mon, James! Your boyfriend is basically being groped and you're just laughing? Do you hate me?

"There's a little bit of swelling," the doctor said finally after 10 minutes of feeling me up. Definitely too long. James had to stifle more giggles. "But nothing serious. If there's ever a sharp increase in pain, a pain episode lasts more than 24 hours or it cannot be sedated with any of your painkillers, I'd go straight to the nearest hospital."

I thanked him, getting changed at the speed of light and giving James a light, playful slap.

"That was cruel," I muttered. "I'm getting a sharp increase in pain from his very presence."

James let out a shriek of laughter before clapping a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with the effort of containing the laughs. I kissed him quickly on the cheek, thanked the doctor and we headed home.


	22. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. I DON'T OWN HAMILTON OR B99

_6 months later- Madison's p.o.v_

So nothing to interesting happened after the hospital. Oh, hang on. There was that time with Hamilton in the office...

_Flashback_

Everyone was gathered around Hamilton's desk, gossiping. We were interrogating Adams about where he'd been for the office party the week before. He said he'd been in a hold up. None of us, least of all Hamilton, believed. Then, Washington wandered through to see what we were up to.

"Oh, hey, Mr President. Did you get my report on gun protection?" Hamilton called over. Washington glanced over and smiled, coming to stand next to us.

"Yeah, I looked it over," he replied. "Nice work."

"Good. Thanks, dad."

Everyone gaped at Hamilton, who simply gave us a strange look back. Thomas was giggling a little. "Why is everyone staring at me?" Hamilton asked, genuinly confused.

"You just called Washington _dad,_ " Thomas told him, badly surpressing giggles.

'What?" Alexander exclaimed. "No, I didn't. I said, _thanks, man."_

"Do you see me as a father figure, Hamilton?" Washington asked. I could see the soft tears of paternal fulfilment in his eyes.

"No. If anything, I see you as a "bother" figure, 'cause you're always bothering me," Hamilton shot back, disgruntled as he folded his arms.

"Hey, show your father some respect," Burr called from somewhere in the back.

"I didn't call him dad," Hamilton yelled, throwing his arms in the air in exhasperation.

"No, no, no, no, Alexander. I take it as a compliment," the Virginian veteran reassured him, placing a warm hand on Alexander's shoulder.

"I called Sarah _mom_ once, and she's my fiancee," John Jay piped up.

"Guys, jump on that! Jay has psycho-sexual issues," Hamilton said, his face as red as it could possibly go.

"Old news," Thomas answered, brushing it off. "But you calling Washington _daddy_ \--"

"Hey, _daddy_ is not on the table here," Hamilton said, his voice with a dangerously warning tone.

"But you did call him _dad_ , dude," Adams said, holding up his hands. "All right, all right, I was lying about the holdup. But the dad thing, that happened."

"Aha!" Alexander exclaimed. "He admitted that his alibi was a lie. It was a trap, all part of my crazy, devious plan."

"I believe you," Washington said, sounding oddly sincere.

"Thank you," Alex replied, his face smug.

"Son."

Oh no, his face could go redder. Thomas and his gay ass squealed over the cuteness. "Do you want to talk about it later over a game of catch?"

"I'd like that," Alexander said after a long pause. Thomas jumped around, yelling in triumph. That was the gossip for the next month sorted.

_Flashback over_

Yeah, that was good. But I was starting to get restless. I loved Thomas so fully, and we had agreed that we did want to get married, but not quite yet. Well, I thought it was high time we got round to it. It was around mid-December when I actually proposed, but I started thinking about it at the start of the month.

"Hey, Eliza?" I whispered into the phone. I had snuck into the toilet with my phone, as so not to alert Thomas. I was sick anyway, so if I heard him coming I could just pretend to be throwing up or something. I didn't plan over text, anyway.

"What's up, darling?" she said sweetly. Don't worry. She calls everyone darling.

"I need a good ring shop," I said. She squealed, and gave me the top 10 ring shops in New York. I thanked her, and quickly ended the call. Thomas was coming near... act fast, act fast! In desperation, thinking of the ultimate secrecy this plan needed, I shoved my fingers down my throat. It would be worth it in the long run.

Everything I had eaten in the past day or so came rushing out, and I leant over the toilet, spewing it all up. I was majorly regretting this decision. _It'll all be worth it._

Thomas must've heard, as he rushed in. He rubbed soothing circles into my back, stroking my feverish skin.

"Oh, baby," he murmured as I leant back, shaking a little and wiping my mouth.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Not to him: to myself. Of course, he didn't know that.

"Hey, it's not your fault," he soothed, standing up briefly and then holding a cup of water to my lips. I sipped, swilling it round my mouth and spitting. He flushed the toilet, helping me up and into the bedroom, lying me on the bed. He disappeared for a few minutes, before returning with my phone and a bucket. I didn't feel sick one little bit, but for authenticity, I shakily took the bucket from him and hugged it close to my chest. _It's all for the best_.

He sat next to me on the bed, holding me close to his chest, pulling his hand gently through my short hair.

"Just sleep, baby," he mumbled, and it wasn't long before my eyes slid shut, my dreams filled with thoughts of our wedding.

888888

Finding the ring was easy. I went with Eliza to the number one store on her list. We walked in, and one particular ring stood out to me. It was made of obsidian, a beautiful gleaming black that shone and danced in the sunlight. I knew immediately that that was the one.

I pointed it out to the woman behind the counter. She pulled it out for me, rambling on about the beauty of the stone, the smoothness, blah blah blah... I didn't listen.

The ring was Thomas' size, I could tell just by looking at it.

"This is the one," I proclaimed. The woman smiled. "How much?"

"$789, sir," she told me. Eliza exhaled and puffed out her cheeks, but I passed over the exact amount. We left with the ring and a huge smile, $789 poorer. Well, you can't put a price on love.

The engagement was pretty simple. I just waited for Thomas to be cooking for us. Mac and cheese, obviously. I fiddled with the ring box in my pocket for a moment before clearing my throat.

"Thomas?"

"Yeah, b-" he managed to say before he turned to see me on one knee. He gasped and put his hands to his mouth, tears gleaming in his eyes. "Oh my God," he whispered, his tone hushed.

"Thomas Jefferson, you're an idiot," I began. Lovely, I know. "But I love you so, so much. More than you can imagine. So, will you do me the goddamn honour of being my husband?"

"YES!!!!" he screaming, tackling me in a hug. I've never seen him move so fast without with his cane. It was as if he'd forgotten about his leg. "OH MY GOD, YES!"

I slid the ring gently onto his finger, and he pulled me into a passionate kiss. I didn't end it, and one thing lead to another...

The mac and cheese was left burning on the stove.

_1 month later- 3rd person p.o.v_

"And I guess that's how we got here," Madison said, glancing towards Jefferson. Thomas nodded encouragingly. Their hands were entwined, and they were sat in front of Mama Jefferson, Eleanor Madison, both fathers, Eliza, Hamilton, Laf, Herc, Peggy, Angelica, Maria, Laurens, Washington, Burr and Theodosia.

"Well..." Eliza started.

"It's a bit long for a wedding toast."


End file.
